No Common Allegiance: An Elegy for Justice
by dHALL
Summary: Part Three of Three. Charlie keeps his promise,but during a botched escape attempt the courthouse becomes a warzone for the gangs of LA and Don finds himself on a quest for revenge that could tear him apart. Warning:Character Death SERIES COMPLETED!
1. A Gathering of Crows

_Months have gone by as the FBI and the US Attorney have built a solid racketeering case against four members of the Mara 13th. Over the course of the investigation, Don has grown quite attached to a certain AUSA. When the court date finally arrives, Charlie follows though on his promise to Marcus. But things don't always go as planned. During a botched escape attempt, the Los Angeles County Federal Courthouse becomes a war zone for the gangs of L.A. and Don, tormented by an unspeakable loss, finds himself on a quest for revenge that could tear his family apart. (Warning: Character Death)_

_Part Three of the 'No Common Allegiance' series.I recommend reading parts one and two first. But I don't think you'd be totally lost if you didn't._

**Rated T or PG-13**

_For graphic descriptions of injury , death and violence and s__trong language _

Sections might warrant an M or an R rating in some of your eyes.I'll post a warning at the top of those chapters. If you happen to be into linguistics……If you speak or understand **_Caliche, Salvadoreño_**, or are fluent in **_Spanish_**, there are terms used in this story that you could potentially find offensive. I just wanted to warn you. Just in case. I'm also killing a character.I had this outlined before I saw the 'Guns and Roses' episode (rerun, but a first for me). Now I feel bad. But never-the-less, here is my warning and I intend to follow through with my original plan.Character death will occur. I don't want to risk anyone getting angry later.

So here we go!

**No Common Allegiance: Elegy for Justice**

**By dHALL**

**Prologue: A Gathering of Crows**

Alan Eppes groaned with displeasure as he stepped off the gravel roadway. The grass had been cut too short and the heat of the California sun had turned the turf a grotesque shade of brown. Silently, he cursed the caretaker for not taking better care of the grounds. Somehow the color of the grass made the entire landscape appear dull, painted in neutral shades. This place needed color. Especially today.

A well worn groove wove it's way up the hill and with a sigh Alan resolved himself to the climb. Halfway up the path, he stopped to remove his jacket. He had expected it to be cooler, but the sun had almost set and the heat of the day was still lingering.

Right in the middle of the dull, lifeless scenery a single dandelion caught his eye. It didn't seem right for something to be living all alone in this vast sea of death. It almost looked as if the flower had sucked the life out of everything around it, thriving on that which had destroyed it's counterparts.

As Alan rounded the top of the hill, a flock of birds erupted from the nearby trees. As he spotted the familiar knoll just over the rise, a single bird returned and reamed him out for disturbing their perch. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Alan made his way around the scattered markers that covered the hillside and stopped in front of a familiar inscription.

Any trace of a smile disappeared as he stared at it, and he felt the customary sensation of grief and loss rising in his chest. Every time he came up here, it felt as it had the first time. Even with the years gone by, it was still so hard to look at those words written in stone.

_Margaret Eppes _

_Beloved Wife and Mother_

_You will always be in our hearts_

He let his eyes rest on the symbol carved in the top of the stone. A broken sword. A life cut short….taken before it's time.

Even though he knew the words by heart, Alan stepped around to the back of the gravestone and read the memorable script.

_You really never leave someone you love. Part of them you take_

_with you, leaving a part of yourself behind._

…_May the Lord keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other.- Genesis 31:49 _

Circling around the stone, Alan stopped again at the front.

_Beloved Wife and Mother_

Somehow those words had never seemed strong enough. Looking out over the gravestone and across the hillside Alan was still impressed with the view. The panorama from this site had always been awe inspiring and he turned to take in every angle. The sun was setting and the sky was streaked with beautiful shades of red and orange. Margaret had always loved the colors of the California sunset.

Alan blew out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"I'm sorry. It has been awhile, hasn't it?"

He paused, glancing around again to make sure he was alone before he continued.

"I almost lost them, Magpie. I almost lost them both."

Alan found himself choking on the words and he had to stop and clear his throat.

"I can't stop thinking about how close it was. Less than a quarter of an inch. That would have done it. And Charlie. My God…."

He had to stop, his voice cracking with unresolved emotions.

"It's been almost six months and still, I can barely bring myself to talk about it. "

Alan reached up and rubbed the back of his head.

"They've talked about it…..the boys…..they still make jokes about it. Charlie! Joking about almost being killed. This I don't understand."

He shook his head to emphasize his bafflement.

"We accepted Don's risks……….But now Charlie? He won't give up on making a difference with these kids. Quitting was never something he was good at."

A smile crept over his lips.

"He gets that from you."

With a sigh, Alan continued his soliloquy.

"He's started volunteering at a community center over on the west side. Our baby boy, as smart as he is, is spending every Wednesday night on the west side of Los Angeles. He's been doing it for almost eight weeks now and I'm just finding out about it. Donnie let it slip. They still keep secrets from their old man. I guess he didn't want me to worry…….."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"…..but what else am I supposed to do?"

With a deep sigh, he tried to shake off the oppressive feelings.

"Well, I usually tell you how the boys are, and here I am carrying on about how hard this has been for me."

He walked closer to the tombstone. Stopping just short of it, he crossed his arms.

"Don's been dating….an attorney, actually. It's a bird…her name. Raven……no…..Robin. I, um…. I haven't met her. He's bringing her to the house for dinner tonight. Don says it's nothing serious…….strictly professional………….they've just been working closely together since his team is still gathering evidence for the case she's prosecuting."

With a smirk, he continued.

"But………according to Charlie, Don's been seeing her pretty regularly outside of work for the better part of four months. And he would know, he certainly sees more of Don than I do. I'd like to think this means there's still hope for grandchildren."

He stopped again and uttered a small laugh, then furrowed his brow.

"They both faced death……Don almost….he could have died…..Charlie was moments away from…………"

He shuddered involuntarily, unable to say it out loud.

"And they're just moving on with their lives as if nothing ever happened. I don't know where they get their strength. If it came from you……..I'm grateful for that. We didn't always get everything perfect, you and I. But our boys……they've turned into outstanding men. So I guess we did something right."

The sound of crickets began to permeate the air and Alan whispered his next words.

"You'd be so proud of them.……"

Alan lowered his head……..when he lifted it again tears shown in the corner of his eyes. The light from the setting sun had all but disappeared, and he knew it was time to head back towards his car.

"I won't wait so long between visits this time. I promise."

He kissed his hand and placed it gently on top of the stone.

"Happy Anniversary, Margaret. I miss you everyday."

As he turned and headed back towards the car, a strong breeze began to blow out of the west. The Santa Ana winds were urging autumn to move on and despite the warmth in their gusts, Alan could feel a chill to the air.

He donned his jacket and dug his keys out of his pocket. The sound of beating wings stopped him as he climbed into the car. He watched as the flock of birds returned to their tree at the top of the hill.

Somewhere in the distance, there a low roll of thunder.

The winds were blowing a storm in and more likely than not, it was going to be a big one.

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Authors Notes: I will not be able to update daily as I usually do.SO please stay with me!

Please leave your comments...you should know me by now!


	2. The Calm Before The Storm

**Chapter One: The Calm Before the Storm**

Charlie's eyes scanned the room. His young audience was getting antsy. He stared at the ceiling for a minute, as if he were thinking hard, and then turned his back to them.

He popped the lid off the marker in his hand and started writing on the portable dry erase board that had been set up on the small art easel.

8, 15, 52, 4, 9, 17, 71, 6, 22, 0

He turned back to the group.

"Are you sure you want another one? It's getting kind of late."

His question was answered by ten small heads nodding frantically.

"Ok, one for the road. Bring me the answer next week……._If _you can figure it out."

"These numbers,"

He pointed out each of the numbers on the board, giving the kids time to write them down.

"are written on the door of the gym. To get in to play basketball, you have to place these numbers…."

He wrote three more numbers on the board just under the others.

43, 11, 35

"in their correct places in the string of numbers."

He paused again to give his audience time to catch up.

"_SO_…..you need to tell me, where do these three numbers belong in the sequence of numbers?"

He waited a minute to see if a prodigy in the group might have the answer right away. When no one spoke he decided to throw in a little incentive.

"If you can come up with the answer, there's pizza involved."

The room filled with excited chatter. A hand shot up and Charlie pointed at the young boy in a chair close to the back.

"Is it some kinda pattern?"

He nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes….it is. Good, Frankie."

He addressed the group.

"Does anyone see the pattern?"

"No."

Frankie spoke out loud as all the other boys vigorously shook their heads.

Charlie grinned.

"I'll give you a hint. Eight is always first and zero is always last."

He found himself almost laughing as the group immediately wrote his 'hint' down on their papers.

Several were studying the numbers intently. A few others were talking amongst themselves, trying to come up with the answer.

"_Next _week guys……bring the answer _next _week."

A resounding "AWWWW" filled the room and Charlie smiled at the group of students.

"I'll tell you what, I'll bring pizza anyway…._if_………"

The room quieted down.

"_IF_, you try to come up with the answer."

A few heads nodded in unison.

"Ok, see you next week."

The room filled with the echo of footsteps as the group broke up and headed for the exit.

Frankie de Gattás lingered near his chair.

Charlie headed over to where the twelve year old was standing. The youngster had only recently started coming to the community center and then it was only at the urging of his older brother, who was required to be here on Thursday nights under the terms of his probation.

"Hey kiddo. Everything ok?"

"Yeah, I guess. Gotta wait for my ride. Marcus made me promise."

Charlie nodded.

"Marcus knows what he's talking about. You should listen to him."

"Oh, I do. He says these guys will be ok….that it's ok for me to ride home with them, as long as I see their badges first."

The young boy nodded his head toward a tall, dark haired man in the back of the room.

"I don't know about that one…but I think I've seen him before. You don't think he's the one taking me home, do you?"

Charlie felt a smile spread over his face as he recognized his older brother. He gave Don a slight nod of the head in greeting. He hadn't seen him come in. He was standing near the back door with Agent Sinclair, talking to a man Charlie didn't recognize. In a moment, the three walked quickly over to where Charlie and Frankie were standing.

"Hey, Don. David. What are you doing here? I though someone from the Witness Assistance Program was escorting the kids to court tomorrow?"

The agent shook his head.

"They are. This is Agent Travis."

Don gestured at him.

"Sam….this is my brother, Charlie."

After a brief handshake and a friendly nod, Agent Travis turned to Frankie. Without being asked, he handed the youngster his badge.

"I'm going to be taking you home tonight, Frankie. Then, in the morning, I'll be back with a few of my friends and we will take you and your brother to the courthouse."

Satisfied with it's authenticity, Frankie handed the badge back to the agent and began gathering his things.

Charlie turned back to Don.

"So, why are you here?"

David interceded, allowing Don to sidestep the question.

"I heard you've been sending the kids home with some pretty challenging brain teasers. I thought I'd come see just how tough they were."

"Oh."

While David was talking, Charlie had widened his eyes at Don, again asking his unanswered question. Don had just shrugged.

Charlie turned back to David.

"Well, did you figure it out? The pattern?"

Before David could reply, a distinctly female voice spoke from the doorway.

"The numbers are arranged in alphabetical order."

Charlie swung his head around to see who had entered the room. An attractive woman in her mid 30's stood behind him.

"Ms. Rawlings."

"I've told you. Please, call me Olivia."

The community center's director smiled at Charlie.

Turning to Frankie, she pointed at the numbers on the board.

"Try writing the numbers out, using their words, and then you'll find the pattern."

Frankie looked at her in amazement as if she had just shared a forbidden secret. She leaned toward him and whispered.

"Well, somebody has to earn that pizza."

The boy grinned and grabbed his bag as Agent Travis headed for the door.

"See ya tomorrow, Charlie!"

He shook his head and corrected himself.

"I mean….um…Mr. Eppes."

He shrugged his shoulders in a silent apology and followed the agent out the door.

Olivia had her hands in her pockets and was staring at Charlie, shaking her head.

"When David told me you wanted to volunteer for after school tutoring I wasn't sure it was going to work out."

Charlie looked nonplused.

"Why?"

"You're just a little….."

David chuckled.

"White?"

Don tried to hide a smile and Olivia laughed. She gave David a reproachful look.

"I _wasn't _going to say that…..but it may have crossed my mind. We don't get many……Anglos in this part of town………..except for cops……...but no, that's not why."

Charlie blushed a little.

"You were going to say that I would be over their heads. That I wouldn't be able to relate to these kids?"

She nodded her head briskly.

"But, David insisted it would work. And he was right. You're the first person we've brought in here to help with homework that the kids haven't run from as soon as their work was done. They actually wait around to hear you talk. That's a little freaky."

Charlie offered a wry smile.

"I'm working on my technique. Maybe I can chase them off next week."

Olivia threw her head back and laughed.

Looking slightly embarrassed, Charlie tossed his backpack over his shoulder.

"No, really…..It's a joy. If only college kids were that enthusiastic."

She gazed at him in admiration.

"Well, I don't know how you've gotten them so caught up in math, or so willing to come in and do their homework. But whatever you're doing…keep doing it. The kids love you. Thank you for spending your Wednesday evenings with them."

Charlie nodded humbly and she continued.

"Of course, I'm sure the pizza offer will increase the number of kids next week. Word gets around….you might want to order a few extras."

"A few?"

She offered David an affectionate smile.

"See you tomorrow night? You'll still be here right?"

He nodded, and his eyes followed her as she walked from the room.

Charlie was still standing by the door.

"How many is a few?"

Don headed out the exit and Charlie turned and followed.

Unable to resist the urge to rib David, Don grinned.

"She'll see ya tomorrow, huh?"

"I volunteer at the community center on Thursday evenings, Don."

"And then you stay after and help the beautiful director clean up?"

David gave him a sly smile.

"Yes, in fact, I do. For the past ten months, Don. Every week."

Grinning, Don pulled his keys out of his pocket and pushed the button to unlock the door. He turned to his younger brother.

"Do you have anything you need to do on the way home, Charlie?"

"No. I was going to…….."

He paused and stared at his brother with incredulousness.

"Dad made you drive down here to give me a ride back to my car, didn't he?"

David nodded comically as he climbed into the front seat, but Don shook his head in denial.

"I'm thirty six years old, Charlie. Dad can't 'make' me do anything."

Then he tilted his head back and gave an over exaggerated sigh.

"Ok, he didn't exactly give me the chance to refuse."

With a groan Charlie opened the door and climbed into the back of the black SUV.

"Well, thanks. You didn't have to."

Don climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Hey, he just doesn't want you hanging out down here by yourself waiting for a cab or the bus….and frankly, neither do I."

"I've made it home without your help since I was in kindergarten, Don. Moreover, I've made it home fine for the past eight weeks from here without any help from anyone. Just because Dad knows about it now does not suddenly increase the odds of my being waylaid by thugs. Anyway, with all this attention, I'm starting to feel like I'm being tailed by the FBI."

"That's because you are."

David laughed at his own quip and Charlie couldn't help but join him.

Don loudly cleared his throat and gave them both a glib smile as he backed out of the parking space.

"Really, Charlie. This neighborhood isn't exactly safe after dark. Dad was ready to kick my ass when he found out I already knew you were volunteering down here without telling him about it. He'd kill me with his bare hands if he knew I'd been letting you take the bus from here to the office all this time."

"I didn't want to leave my car parked out here."

"Exactly, Charlie. I just should have been picking you up from the very beginning. If something were to happen to you down here………"

From the back seat, Charlie interrupted.

"Then it would be due to my own lack of good judgment, Don. Not yours and not Dad's. I know we laugh about it, but I really don't need to be followed around for the rest of my life just because………….."

He sighed again and looked at Don in the rearview mirror.

"I thought we agreed….."

Don interrupted.

"_We _agreed to a lot of things Charlie, whether we meant them or not. But Dad…….he didn't sign this treaty."

Silence pervaded the interior of the vehicle as they pulled into the parking complex behind the federal building.

David shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Um, Don. You can drop me off here, I've got to run up to the office before I head for home."

"Sure."

Don pulled over to the curb just on the other side of the guard shack.

David turned and tipped an imaginary hat at him.

"Have fun tonight, Don. You've got nothing to be nervous about."

With a grin, he closed the door and headed into the building.

For a moment Don looked confused.

"Fun?"

His eyes widened.

"Oh, damn it. I completely forgot."

He put the SUV in drive and raced across the parking lot to where Charlie usually left his car.

"Forgot what?"

"Robin's coming over to the house for dinner tonight."

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"To meet Dad?"

"Yes, to meet Dad. What time is it?"

Charlie glanced at his watch.

"Just after six….when is she coming over."

Don ran his had through his hair as he pulled up behind Charlie's car.

"At six."

"To late now. Once you leave them alone with Dad it's all over. I give you guys two more weeks, tops."

As Charlie climbed out of the back of the SUV, fat raindrops began to pitter-patter off the blacktop. He sat his backpack on the seat and dug for his keys. Don absentmindedly flipped the windshield wipers on and shook his head. He twisted around, glaring at Charlie and trying to look despondent.

"I'm doomed. Dad'll have my baby pictures spread all over the table by the time we get home. She'll never look at me the same again."

Charlie grinned at his older brother before he closed the door.

"Well, maybe he can manage to convince her to run while she still can."

He could hear Don's reply, even though the closed door.

"You're just jealous…….."

With a beaming grin, Don put the SUV in drive and speed off toward the gate. As the intensity of the rainfall increased, Charlie hunched his shoulders and quickly fumbled to unlocked his car door. He had to smile when he saw that Don had stopped in the middle of the lot.

Sure. They had agreed to a lot of things. Whether Don could keep his part of the bargain or not.

Only when Charlie had pulled his car up behind the SUV did Don exit the parking lot and head for the house in Pasadena.

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Don's eyes flew open. His heart was pounding as if he had been running a marathon. Somewhere in his chest an unknown terror had a death grip on his heart. He blinked in the darkness and tried to remember the nightmare that had jolted him from sleep. The room was almost pitch black and he was tempted to reach for the light. He could tell the curtains were open, but the moon was hidden behind clouds. When a flash of lighting momentarily illuminated the space, Don was startled when he failed to immediately recognize his surroundings.

The instantaneous crash of thunder involuntarily set his heart racing again. He had almost forgotten where he was. Then he felt Robin's leg rub up against his. Smiling to himself, Don turned to face the woman sleeping next to him.

He could barely make out her face in the pervasive darkness. But he didn't need the light to see it. He had memorized every inch.

Tenderly he reached out and caressed her check. It had been almost three months since he had started sleeping over. In fact, he hadn't spent the night at his apartment for two straight weeks. And it wasn't just sex, this was real, of that he was certain. The possibility that this was _the one _had entered his mind on several occasions. Now he was almost convinced. And why not? Dad had liked her. Charlie already adored her. And Don was pretty sure he was in love with her. Don lay in the darkness, smiling. He had to almost lose his life to realize he wasn't taking the time to live it. Once he had put things back into the proper perspective, he had decided it might be time for him to move on to the next stage of his life. And maybe Robin Brooks was the one he wanted to go there with.

The storm began to subside and Don felt himself dozing off again. The remnants of his nightmare resurfaced in his fading consciousness and he pushed the underlying current of dread to the back of his mind. As the driving rain beat against the side of the house, Don allowed Robin's steady breathing to lull him back to sleep.

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Chapter Two: And Then You Blink


	3. And Then You Blink

_a/n - thanks to thebondgirl for being my part time therapist._

_Things are becoming borderline on the ratings scale with this chapter. I don't believe it would deserve a M rating and I've read more graphic descriptions under a T rating._

**Chapter Two: And Then You Blink**

"Please tell me that's coffee."

Robin grabbed the cup from Charlie's hand and took a sip.

"Oh, and it's good coffee."

With a bewildered laugh, Charlie shook his head.

"It's a little watered down from the rain. But, have some coffee, Robin. Please, help yourself."

She gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. We were running late this morning…"

She stifled a yawn.

"…..and your brother makes terrible coffee. Do you want it back?"

She completely missed Charlie's perplexed look as she gathered the papers from her desk, still drinking the coffee. He hadn't realized until that moment what an intricate part of Don's life Robin had truly become.

He contained his bemused smile and shook his head.

"No, no. You go right ahead…..I'm hyped up enough with out the extra caffeine. I was looking for Don."

She grabbed her briefcase and rushed past him as she spoke.

"I need to head on in. Don's waiting downstairs. He was going to bring the de Gattás kids up for me."

"I must have just missed him when I came through the lobby. I was going to sit with Frankie, while Marcus gave his testimony."

She stopped suddenly in the doorway, turned and walked back to him. She handed him the now empty coffee cup, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thanks, Charlie."

She brushed her dark hair behind her shoulders and flashed him an excited smile.

"This is the kind of case that makes the history books and the testimony of these two boys is going to tip the scales in our favor. If we get a conviction, it means we can go after the entire street gang and not just the individuals. This could completely redefine the way gang related crimes are prosecuted."

She quickly turned and headed out the door, walking past her receptionist and into the hall.

"See you in there. Don't be late."

Charlie stood in the center of the Assistant United States Attorney's office, holding an empty styrophome cup and laughing at her unconcealed enthusiasm. If that lady couldn't make his brother happy, chances were no one could.

He shook his head, tossed the cup in the trash can by the receptionist's desk and headed for the lobby to wait with Don.

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Don stood in the atrium style lobby of the new Spring Street Courthouse, taking in the remarkable structure of the building. He was in awe of the twenty eight story view to the offices above. He knew Robin's office was up there somewhere. He'd have to find out which one. Standing off to the side of the main security checkpoint that separated one half of the room from the other, Don turned his attention to the security team as they checked in visitors. Since the events of September 11th, the security of federal buildings became so high a priority that The Department of Homeland Security had created The Federal Protective Services for that purpose alone. The FPS was now responsible for law enforcement and security in most federal buildings across the nation. The state of the art metal detection equipment beeped as each visitor passed through. When someone would forget to empty their pockets, it would emit a loud, long buzz that got the attention of every FPS officer in range of the sound. Don checked his watch just as Agent Travis opened the front door to the lobby. Right on time. Marcus and Frankie followed him in out of the rain, with two more men right behind them. Despite the steady downpour that had begun the night before, none of them were carrying an umbrella. Not that he could say much. If Robin hadn't reminded him to grab a raincoat, he'd still be soaking wet. Don watched the three agents escort the two boys to the security checkpoint and Don couldn't help but wonder if _he _was that obvious. You could tell these guys were Feds from a mile away.

Frankie shook the water out of his hair and then waved enthusiastically in his direction. Don started to wave back, then realized the boy was waving at someone behind him. He turned and spotted Charlie making his way across the room.

"Hey, Don."

They watched as the group started through security.

"Hey, Charlie."

_First an agent. _

"You owe me a cup of coffee. Starbucks."

_Then a kid._

"And why is that?"

_Another agent._

"Because a certain lawyer I know says you make terrible coffee and she doesn't have the heart to tell you. So I've been commissioned to bring her a decent cup of java every morning for the rest of your days as a cohabitating couple."

_The other kid._

"You may be at it for a while, then."

Charlie stopped and tilted his head. Raising his eyebrows at his brother.

"So, you two are getting serious then, aren't you?"

Agent Travis was the last to pass through the check point.

As Don stepped toward the group, he smiled mysteriously and then answered Charlie over his shoulder.  
"I'm thinking, yeah….maybe we are."

Don extended his hand to Agent Travis.

"Sam. Any problems?"

"Not a one. Except some number thing that Frankie's been trying to get me to solve all morning. I can't make heads or tales of that one."

Glancing proudly at Frankie, Charlie's face broke into a smile.

"It's really pretty basic, see. You have a list of numbers set in a definitive pattern………."

Don shook his head and good naturedly cut him off.

"Math lessons later, Professor….."

He turned to the two boys.

"If you guys are ready, they're expecting us upstairs."

"We aren't going to……see them in here, are we?"

Marcus looked from Agent Travis to Don.

"I really don't wanna see 'em out here…you know…..before I get to say what I gotta say."

Don clasped the seventeen year old by the shoulder.

"Marcus, the cell blocks have their own entrance and secure hallways lead to and from there……to the courtroom and back again….so except during your testimony, you will never come face to face with these guys. In the courtroom, they are fully restrained and are under armed guard at all times. And we…."

He gestured to the other three agents.

"will be right there. The whole time. So everything's cool. Ok?"

Marcus nodded.

"It's cool…..I'm cool."

He paused for minute.

"Um…Agent Eppes?"

Don's forehead wrinkled as he turned back to the young man.

"Yeah."

"I gotta go……you know….I need to……"

Understanding the urgency in his voice, Don nodded and stopped near the restroom door just before the elevators.

"Right."

One of the other agents entered the restroom. Moments later, he stuck his head back out.

"It's clear."

Marcus hurried past him into the bathroom.

Don turned his eyes to Frankie.

"If everyone else is in good shape, we'll meet you up there."

The boy shook his head.

Agent Travis put his hand on Frankie's back.

"Come on, kiddo."

The youngster nodded and walked with the agent to the elevators.

"You comin', Charlie? I mean……Mr. Eppes?"

Flashing Don a quick smile, Charlie nodded at the boy. The elevator doors opened and a small group of people departed and walked past them toward the front exit. Charlie hurried past the group and followed Frankie and Agent Travis into the elevator. As the doors closed, Don felt a fleeting moment of apprehension rise up from somewhere in his unconscious mind.

He was here in an unofficial capacity. He wasn't even wired. The FBI had it's own division of Victim/Witness Services that provided protection for a victim or witness that they had reason to believe was under threat of harm. But as Special Agent in Charge of the criminal division of the Los Angeles branch of the FBI, he still held rank and that meant he _was _the agent in charge, even if it wasn't his department. He turned to the VWS Agent standing next to him by the door.

"Agent Rawlings, right?"

The younger man shook his head in affirmation.

"Stay sharp, ok."

The agent perked up, keeping his eyes on the crowd.

"What?"

"I don't know yet."

Don's eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. The lobby was milling with people. The building held fifteen district courtrooms, all of which were likely in session today. There were also six bankruptcy courtrooms not to mention the probation and pre-trial offices. The US Attorney's office and all of his minions were housed here, as well as the California division of the US Marshals office. Then there were the judges, their support staff and the court clerks….the list went on and on. It wasn't unusual to have such a large crowd of people in the courthouse on a Thursday morning. Even the unseasonably warm weather and the relentless rain storm didn't stop the federal courts.

He released a sigh, trying to shake the feeling of uneasiness. A flash of lightning in the bleak morning sky drew his eyes to the windows that looked out onto the street. The front of the building was a solid series of tinted plates of glass and the rain was creating a steady hum, subduing the voices in the open lobby. Not spotting anything in the diverse crowd that might have tripped his internal alarm, Don shook his head to clear his mind.

"Just keep your eyes peeled. Something is off."

The bathroom door opened and Agent Snyder, whom Don had met once before, stepped out. Marcus followed close behind.

"Shall we?"

Don stepped aside and they passed by him, heading for the elevator. He cast one more look over his shoulder into the open part of the lobby. Still nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Stopping in front of the elevator, Agent Snyder pushed the button and Don turned his back to the wall. He narrowed his eyes. Something was still tugging at the edge of his mind and he just couldn't quite grasp it. Don ran over everything he had seen since he entered the building this morning with Robin. As he replayed his memory of the morning, he stopped when Charlie got into the elevator….there is was. The group that exited the elevator before they had gotten on. As sudden realization came over Don, his eyes floated over the room, searching. There had been a man. Young. Dressed in a suit and tie….his head shaved, and a small goatee. In, gothic, black letter style; a tattoo. The letters M S and the number 13 almost hidden by the collar of his shirt. Now that he knew what he was looking for, Don searched through the faces that filled the lobby.

With out turning to face his colleagues, his eyes still scanning the room, Don moved his right hand to hover over his holstered weapon.

"Rawlings. Snyder. I think we may have a problem."

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When Charlie entered the courtroom gallery behind Agent Travis and Frankie, his eyes instantly found Robin at the front of the room. She was deep in conversation with an older man in a three piece suit. Charlie self-consciously checked out his own clothes. Khakis and a T-shirt weren't exactly courtroom attire, but he _was _wearing a sports jacket and that had to count for something. When he looked up, Robin caught his eye and gave him a subtle smile. When she looked around for Don, Charlie shook his head and mouthed the words "On his way." She nodded and turned her full attention back to her associate.

Agent Travis remained standing in the isle and Charlie chose a seat. Frankie quickly sunk onto the bench next to him, emulating his expression as Charlie looked around at the rooms occupants. The courtroom crowd was sparse, but they still had at least 20 minutes before the bailiff would have the door closed. Charlie wished he had been sitting in on the trial from the very beginning…but Robin seemed pretty confident that the good guys were more than a few steps ahead. As Charlie continued to watch her as she organized her notes, he found himself feeling slightly jealous of his brother. Don had found someone he would consider sharing the rest of his life with, and she wasn't the devil in disguise. Or if she was, it was a damn good disguise. Failing to suppress a quiet chuckle, he shook his head and grinned. Dad would be thrilled.

"What's so funny?"

Frankie was staring at him.

"What?"

He started to answer, but somewhere in the distance, an indistinguishable noise got his attention. He looked around the room. No one else seemed to have noticed the muted sound. Over the subdued chatter of the filling courtroom, Charlie could hear raised voices from somewhere close by. The armed officer standing near the left hand entrance to the room must have heard them as well. He had turned and entered the door leading to the prisoner cell blocks. Charlie felt the smile slip from his face. He quickly stood and walked to the edge of the row into the center isle. He wasn't sure why, but a sudden outbreak of goose bumps had just rippled out across his arms.

Frankie tugged on his sleeve.

"Hey. What's wrong? I just wanted to know why you were laughing."

Charlie didn't get a chance to respond when another sound, one that he had grown far to familiar with, echoed up the hallway that led off from the left side of the courtroom. A gunshot…followed instantly by several more. The officer who had just entered the hallway staggered back into the room. A series of gasps and shrieks filled the room as it's occupants reacted to the sound of the shots and the sight of the blood seeping from a bullet wound in the man's chest.

From the moment Charlie's eyes fixed on the bleeding officer, the laws of time and space seemed to suspend themselves. Everything slowed to a crawl, moving frame by frame through the events of the next 30 seconds.

Agent Travis pulled his sidearm, yelled something indistinguishable at Charlie, and instantly headed for the door to the holding cells. At that same moment a young man in an orange jumpsuit emerged, a service revolver in his right hand, prisoner restraints still hanging from his wrists. Without hesitation, Agent Travis fired his weapon, hitting the man in the torso. Before the agent could move forward several more shots were fired from the open door to the cell block corridor. Charlie watched in horror as Agent Travis was hit and went down. A third man ran through the door, followed by a fourth who grabbed the firearm from the fallen security officer. They began firing random shots into the small crowd in the courtroom gallery as they passed in front of the witness stand and headed for the center door. The man in the three piece suit was hit and he fell against the defense attorney's table. Frankie reacted quickly and threw his small body to the floor, rolling himself under the bench in front of them. Staring in shock at the carnage that was unfolding, Charlie fell backwards, landing on the floor, unaware of making a conscious decision to do so. He had felt like he was watching the events on a movie screen. His unplanned collision with the ground suddenly put things into perspective and realizing he was a part of this, seemed to restore the passage of time. Charlie wanted to crawl out of the walkway, but found himself unable or unwilling to do so. He rolled himself onto his stomach facing the door and pulled both his hands up over the back of his head.

Suddenly, a uniformed officer ran into the room from the main hallway where the last of those standing had just fled. After firing several shots over the rows of benches in the direction of the approaching escapees, the officer fell back, wounded in the return fire. He hit the floor a few feet from where Charlie lay, and dropped his weapon. The gunfire ceased and then Charlie could hear the approaching footsteps of the three men as they rounded the benches behind him. They stepped over Charlie as if he wasn't even there and stopped next to the wounded officer. One of the men picked up the officer's weapon and without hesitation aimed at the man's face and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot sounded like a cannon in his ears and Charlie felt blood spatter across his face and arms as the back of the officer's head exploded. Charlie felt as if he were being pulled into a black hole that began to grow in his own mind as he tried to detach himself from what was right in front of him. The three fugitives wasted no time stepping over the man's body, and Charlie could hear them as they headed out into the hall.

"The lobby will be cleared for us when we get down there. Marchitémonos!"

"He was already wrong about the Chota…..."

"Too late. Vámonos! Vámonos!"

For a moment, silence lingered after the men had left. But the serenity was quickly broken as the sounds of pain and shock began to fill the room.

Charlie fought back the urge to close his eyes and shut himself off from what had just happened. He forced himself to move and pulled up to his knees, using the edge of the bench for support. But his nervous system couldn't get his body to obey when he tried to stand. Pervasive shock and terror seemed to be controlling his actions. His legs and shoulders were almost shaking too badly to keep him in an upright position. In horror, he took in the pandemonium left in the wake of the escaping gang. Those who were able to, had quickly scrambled to their feet. A few exited through the doors on either side of the courtroom. While others stood, bleeding and in shock, surveying the bodies on the floor. With a surge of effort Charlie managed to pull himself to his feet. An unexpected wave of dizziness hit him, and he was unsure if he was going to be able to remain standing. He lifted his head again and glanced around the room. Frankie had crawled out from under the bench and was standing unmoving, staring at him wide-eyed. Robin had pulled herself up from under the table and on shaky legs she turned and spotted him. She took a few steps toward him and then stumbled to a halt.

"Oh, God. Charlie."

Charlie found himself more frightened by the look of dread in her eyes than he had ever been by anything in his entire life. As he took several steps forward, he became rapidly aware of a burning pain that had begun to grow across his right side. Swallowing hard, he found the courage to look down at his own chest. The front of his t-shirt, under his jacket, was slowly becoming saturated with blood. His blood.

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_Authors Notes: Thanks for your comments thus far. I appreciate all of you for taking the time to leave your thoughts! And I know what you may be thinking now, so I gotta say - You're just going to have to trust me from here on in._

Chapter Three: Between There and Freedom


	4. Between There and Freedom

Linguistics warning. I used a naughty word. Not in English…but still.

Nothing you wouldn't hear in a PG-13 movie, English or otherwise...butI don't want to shock anyone without fair warning…

****

Chapter Three: Between There and Freedom

When they boarded the elevator, Don moved Marcus to the back, away from the doors.

"Who's your contact in building security?"

Rawlings grabbed his phone from his pocket as he replied.

"Anderson."

"Get him. Tell him to alert everybody we may have a……something going down."

Agent Snyder pushed the button for the 10th floor, where the courtroom was located, and the doors slid shut.

"A something, huh? Do you really think some gang is going to make a run on the Federal Courthouse just 'cause we've got four of their guys on trial for racketeering and murder?"

"I wouldn't put it past them. We're not talking about a common street gang here, Snyder. This gang is an international organization that's made it's way onto the DHS watch list. The federal government is trying to stick it to them with this trial and these guys have a history of taking things personally. Why do you think they had you fellas hanging out with these kids?"

Don leaned forward to look into Agent Snyder's ear for the telltale ear bud speaker.

"Are you wired?"

"Yeah, dispatch. It's standard procedure. What do you want me to tell them? What did you see?"

"Gang tat……the 13th. I don't know what they're planning, but……."

Agent Rawlings put his hand out to get their attention as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

"You're right, Eppes. Something is going on…….."

They reached the 10th floor and the elevator's ding rang out as the doors slid open. Don took one step forward and found himself face to face with a man in an orange CDCR jumpsuit.

Shocked at the sight of the elevators passengers, the man took a step backwards.

"Verga!"

He cursed in his father's native tongue as he swung his still shackled arm around, a service revolver in his hand.

Even this moment of hesitation gave Don very little time to react. In the confined space, there wasn't much he could do and there was nowhere to go. The discharge from the weapon was deafening. Even as Don moved to un-holster his own sidearm, he felt something sear by his head. A brief memory of his last encounter with a bullet traveled across his consciousness and he brought his own gun up and pulled the trigger. A second shot rang through the elevator and the man in the orange jumpsuit fell. Another shot was fired from out in the hallway, and he heard Agent Rawlings cry out behind him. The bullet caught the younger agent in the throat and the force of the impact propelled him against the elevator wall.

Don grabbed Marcus from the back corner and shoved him in front of him, using the enclosed sides of the elevator as cover.

Agent Snyder followed his example and crouched down on the opposite side, pulling Agent Rawlings' body along with him. He quickly spoke into his headset.

"FBI VWS unit one, agent down! South wing…we're in the elevator and we are taking fire!"

He glanced at Don.

"Holy Shit! How in the hell did they get guns?"

Several more shots were sent in their direction and Don pushed Marcus as far into the corner as he could.

The elevator door gave its ding indicating that the doors were closing. As they slid shut, Don reached up and pushed the button for the 9th floor.

He looked at Rawlings' still form.

"Get his phone, he was on with security, find out what's happening. Tell them about the man in the lobby."

Snyder nodded and obeyed.

From the massive puddle of blood that Rawlings was lying in, Don knew there was nothing he could do. Every possible sequence of events that could have put guns into the hands of these men systematically galloped through his mind. This had been planned, timed and carefully executed. The young man he had seen leaving the elevator….somehow he had gotten a weapon into the hands of four federal inmates. It was almost impossible to believe.

Once again, he was alerted to their arrival on the next floor by the ding. As the doors slid open, Don remained in a crouch, prepared for any scenario. However, he wasn't prepared for the blood curdling scream from a bleeding woman who immediately tried to board the elevator.

Her shriek lasted only a few moments, as she fell back into the hallway. A small group gathered there took a collective step backwards as they spotted the two armed men in the elevator. Quickly, Don lowered his weapon and lifted is left hand up in a peaceful gesture.

"We're FBI. I'm Agent Eppes. Did you come from upstairs? Can somebody tell me what happened?"

A man stepped forward.

"They had guns when they came out. They just started shooting people. The guards tried to stop them, but it all happened so fast…..We ran down the first flight of stairs, then some of us decided to wait here for help."

Don had headed for the door to the stairwell, when Agent Snyder grabbed his arm. He was still holding the phone up, while simultaneously listening to dispatch from the small speaker concealed in his other ear.

He kept his voice at a whisper.

"One of the prisoners somehow got a chiv in here and used that to overpower the guard. Used his gun to shoot their way out of holding. Took the passage to the courtroom and exited through there. FPS security teams are cover all exits for the south wing, and they've called in LAPD to assist. Our emergency response team is right behind them. The building is in lockdown….they're evacuating the lobby, then they're going to work their way up floor by floor. They've got security on eleven making sure they don't go up and they've just shut down the elevators. They want us to hold here….wait for backup."

He waited for Don to respond, but the senior agent acted as if he hadn't heard him.

"Agent Eppes?"

Don felt as if a two ton weight had dropped into the pit of his stomach. The prisoners had gotten out of the cellblocks through the courtroom. Robin would have already been in the courtroom and Charlie had taken Frankie up less than five minutes ago. Agent Travis had been with them, but if these men had made it into the hallway…………..?

Don focused his eyes on the group that had fled the 10th floor.

"Is there still anyone up there?"

The older man who was volunteering the information looked confused.

"What?"

Don raised his voice.

"Are there any survivors?"

"We are the survivors!"

The trauma in the older man's tone was apparent as he tried to explain.

"Any one left in that courtroom after we left were either dead or dying. They just shot people. They shot everybody."

A young man in the group supported the older man's elbow and a woman began to sob softly.

Don's mind was reeling. He started for the door to the stairs and then stopped himself. The implications of the man's statement had been an almost physical blow and he couldn't think straight. He felt as though he had had the wind knocked out of him. Backing himself into the elevator, Don leaned his head up against the wall. He lifted his eyes and stared at the ceiling, trying to slow his breathing. His heart was pounding so hard he was certain it would beat out of his chest and make an attempt to get back upstairs and into that courtroom with or without the rest of his body. He inhaled deeply and tried to reestablish order in the thoughts and emotions that were threatening to tear his soul apart.

"Agent Eppes?

Marcus was still plastered against the wall next to the door, where Don had left him. He was staring at Agent Rawlings' body on the floor.

"Agent Eppes…..what's happened? What's going on? Where is Frankie?"

Don took a moment to attempt to conceal the terror that had just sucker punched him in the gut. He pulled his professional mask back over his face, then he lowered his head and met the young man's eyes.

"We're not sure what happened, Marcus. But Agent Travis is with your brother…….."

Under his breath, he added "……and mine too."

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Robin rushed to Charlie's side. Grabbing his arm just as his knees gave out, she was able to slow his decent to the ground.

"Charlie? Oh my God."

As tears sprang up in her eyes, she lifted her head and yelled as loudly as she could.

"Help! Somebody help me!"

Charlie reached up and grabbed her hand. The sight of his own blood had made him feel a substantially woozy, and for a second he'd felt faint…..he struggled to pull his thoughts back into place with little success. Robin's hand was shaking and despite the absolute terror he was feeling, and the upheaval of his cerebral processes, Charlie suddenly felt the need to console her.

"It's okay, Robin. I'm really okay. There isn't that much blood, see. I just think……"

As the mental and emotional shock of what he had just witnessed and what had just happened to them all began to sink in, Charlie stopped himself mid-sentence and squeezed his eyes shut.

He had just been shot.

The pain in his side was ebbing off a little now that he was back on the floor. It almost felt numb. But Charlie knew it was just his body's first reaction to the physical shock that would soon try to shut him down.

He struggled with his desire to react emotionally to what was happening, feeling as if he were being pushed and pulled at the same time.

A myriad of thoughts and feelings ran fleetingly though his mind. The notion that he could actually die sprouted up into his consciousness. When his eyes fluttered open and he found Robin's terrified face in front of his, Charlie fought valiantly to dismiss any display of his own fears.

"It's okay. It'll be okay."

He didn't know if he was trying to reassure her, or himself.

Robin sunk the rest of the way to the floor, kneeling down next to Charlie and they both were silent for a moment. Suddenly she reacted as if she had been yanked out of a trance. Pulling her suit jacket off, Robin wadded it up and shoved it into Charlie's side, pressing hard on the bullet wound. The sudden application of pressure to the hole in his upper abdomen put an end to any reprieve he had gotten from the pain. A new and excruciating agony shot through his body and he inhaled sharply, gasping to breath.

Robin winced in sympathy, but continued to apply pressure.

"I'm sorry, Charlie…I'm sorry. We've got to slow the bleeding."

She glanced up at the security cameras in the back corners of the gallery and hoped to God they were operational.

"I'm sure help is on the way."

Two young women were helping a slightly older matron up from the floor and a good looking blond in her mid forties was holding her bleeding arm tightly to her chest. Frankie had moved out into the walkway and was standing, horror stricken, next to Charlie. Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot echoing up the hallway made them all jump. It was followed almost instantly by a second shot. A few moments later several more shots rang out.

Suddenly, two of the men burst back into the room. They were conversing rapidly in a bastardized version of Spanish that Robin knew to be a form Salvadorian slang. She had heard them speak it numerous times when she had tried to get them to plead out for a life sentence before the trail had begun. Frankie dropped back between the benches and lowered himself to his knees next to Charlie, trying to make himself invisible. The four women, who had just started for the door, dropped back to the ground almost instantly.

The two men stopped abruptly and took in the seven people who had not yet fled the courtroom.

The older of the two escapees, stalked forward down the center isle and with a primal scream, he kicked a chair out from behind the defense attorney's table. He began to rant loudly, only reverting to English when he shouted out a string of curses and kicked the witness stand.

The other man elevated the pistol in his hand and hovered it between the two clusters of people on the floor. He interjected into his partner's bellows only occasionally, but whatever he did say only seemed to enrage the other man even more.

Every pair of eyes in the room were fixed on the two men as they began to pace, occasionally pointing their guns at the terrified hostages as they continued to converse in their own dialect. Charlie could feel Robin trembling as she continued to press her jacket over his upper abdomen. The pain was pulsating now in waves that almost physically pushed him against the bench he was propped against. He was starting to feel light headed and had to concentrate hard on not throwing up as nausea rushed over him with each ripple of pain. With his heart pounding in his ears, Charlie listened to the two men. The language they were speaking was completely foreign to him, but he didn't need to understand Salvadorian to know exactly what had happened.

Three went out, only two came back. That seemed pretty self explanatory.

They had lost their chance for escape. And from the way they continued to nervously pace the floor, it was obvious they both knew it.

As an amplified, overwhelming surge of pain washed over him, the edges of his vision went white and Charlie squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He couldn't pass out. He had to stay awake. For Robin. For Frankie. And for himself……because he felt certain that once he gave in, he might never wake up again.

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Thank you again for your comments.

….and your trust……

….and your patience…..

….and…..well, you get the idea.

****

Chapter Four: Circumstances Beyond Your Control


	5. Circumstances Beyond Your Control

**Chapter Four: Circumstances Beyond Your Control**

Colby pulled the SUV up onto the courtyard sidewalk, stopping directly in front of the three tiered fountain that decorated its center. A flash of lightning illuminated the glass front of the Spring Street Courthouse and the subsequent clap of thunder made Colby wish he'd brought an umbrella. A uniformed officer, rain poncho pulled up over his head, met him as he climbed from the vehicle.

"What the hell do you think your doing? You can't park up here."

"I just did."

He held open his badge, just as Megan descended from the passenger side door, pulling her raincoat up over her head.

"FBI. I'm Special Agent Granger, this is Special Agent Reeves."

Colby circled around the fountain and headed for the entrance to the courthouse building. He turned toward the officer and yelled over the driving rain.

"Where is your FPS Chief?"

Megan met him on the other side of the fountain, just as the officer answered.

"Inside. The man at the door will take you through. They are still evacuating the building. I'll let the Chief know you're here."

As they stepped around a group of men and women who were being ushered out onto the sidewalk, Megan cast a glance over her shoulder.

"Did you notice something odd about that?"

Colby pulled the door and held it open for her to pass through.

"About what? He was just doing his job."

"No, not the cop, Granger. The crowd."

"What about them?"

"There _is _one."

He gave her a inquiring look, but she didn't get the chance to explain.

"Agent Granger?"

A short balding man was striding across the lobby towards them.

"I'm FPS Chief Tom Anderson."

Colby nodded and extended his hand.

"Granger. This is Agent Reeves."

The man nodded and began to walk quickly back across the lobby.

"We have the floor secure, and we're holding position, waiting for you guys. Right now the fugitives are confined to the courtroom."

"Have they made any demands?"

"None. The courtroom cameras show at least seven hostages still alive, a few injuries, possibly critical. Multiple civilian fatalities from the initial escape. The prisoners left the courtroom through the gallery. Most of the survivors were able to get out, but after running into your agents in the elevator….they ended up back in there, but they're down to two and they haven't done anything but pace for the past ten minutes."

As short as Anderson was, both Megan and Colby were walking full speed to keep up with him and his pace only heightened the feeling of urgency. Colby took a few extra steps to get slightly ahead of the man.

"The FBI's Hostage Rescue team is right behind us. You said the SAC was on the scene and told you to call us. Where is he?"

They walked through the metal detector and it buzzed as they passed under. Anderson headed for the hallway that lead toward the offices in the back of the building.

"He's upstairs already. They were on the scene when the incident began. There was a Federal VWS team escorting a witness to court, and then your guy….Eppes."

Colby nodded as the man continued.

"They took the elevator right into the middle of the escape, they didn't have anywhere to go. Security cameras are on a digital system now, so we've got the whole thing recorded and ready for playback.

"How many down?"

"We've lost at least three security officers and you've got one down in the courtroom and one in the elevator. Special Agent Eppes is on the line in the main office. He sent Agent Snyder back down with the witness and the group that escaped the courtroom. They are in the first floor conference room. Eppes wanted to be notified the minute his team arrived."

Megan cast her eyes at Colby and both agents increased their speed, reaching the main security office before Anderson had made it halfway down the hall.

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Don held the cell phone tightly to his ear. Every sixty seconds or so, he checked his watch. Even though he knew exactly how long it would take to assemble and transport the Hostage Rescue Team to the courthouse, each second was one second to many.

He was following protocol.

He was following procedure.

And he wasn't sure how much longer he could restrain himself from rushing that courtroom.

The first response team had arrived, but Don asked them to hold on the ground floor and assist the FPS team. He didn't want to risk aggravating the situation in the courtroom until the special ops rescue team was in place.

Don found it impossible not to dwell on the possibilities that presented themselves with each passing moment. There was always the chance that Charlie and Robin had made it out of the courtroom with another group…_Charlie would have called him_…..They could already be on the ground floor…._Robin would have called him_.

But there was a chance. There was always a chance. Still, something inside him, deep down in his gut, told Don not to get his hopes up.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when a voice broke over the line.

"Agent Eppes? It's Anderson."

The man sounded out of breath.

Before he could answer, a familiar voice spoke up.

"Don?"

"Megan. Tell me something. I'm on nine. Do they have their eyes on up there?"

The main office was equipped with walls of small video monitors and one larger screen in the center console. The video feed from the camera in the 10th floor courtroom was being fed to the main monitor and Megan looked over the scene.

What she saw there sent her heart into a downward spiral that landed in her stomach with the force of an atomic bomb. Even with the poor resolution that the security camera broadcast, she could clearly make out Charlie on the floor in the middle of the gallery walkway. From the way he was propped up against the bench, she could tell he hadn't landed that way intentionally. She leaned forward against the table and examined the grainy picture.

"Yeah. Uh, Don?"

Colby shook his head at her. NO. If he doesn't know, he doesn't need to know right now.

Megan brought her hand up and clenched her fist over her mouth.

"Don, We've got seven visible hostages."

Don took a deep breath as his heart rate doubled. Seven. There was still a possibility that Charlie and Robin were among the hostages. As much as that thought terrified him, it was better than the alternative that had already tried to root itself into his mind.

"Condition?"

Megan was still examining the picture on the monitor. The two gunmen where pacing the floor and the younger of the two was waving his gun around the room. They appeared to be arguing, or perhaps conversing enthusiastically. The hostages were sitting in two groups. On the far right Robin Brooks was kneeling next to Charlie on the floor. She had both hands pressing on Charlie's abdomen and appeared to be a state of panic. A boy, the youngest de Gattás kid was behind him between the benches. Just across the gallery a group of four women sat huddled close together. She shook her head at Colby and answered Don through clenched teeth.

"Hard to say."

And then she waited for Don to ask the question.

The question she knew she would have to answer.

"Is there…..…Can you see either of them?"

Megan squeezed her eyes shut and responded, afraid of what he would ask next.

"Yeah. I do."

"And?"

She didn't answer right away and Don felt his heart skip a beat.

"Tell me, Megan."

"Charlie's down, Don."

He already knew. From the moment he had realized the escape path had led the gunman through the courtroom, he had known. Don bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"How bad?"

"Alive. Beyond that……..Don, I just can't tell."

"Robin?"

"Looks okay. She's with him. So is the kid."

As Colby listened to Don's reaction, he watched the screen carefully. Charlie wasn't the only one who appeared to be injured. The group of four, huddled on the other side of the gallery had two that were obviously sporting serious wounds as well. He knew they had little time to act. Despite his confidence in Don as the Special Agent in Charge, negotiating with two armed felons when your girlfriend and your brother are among the hostages…..well that just wasn't something they trained you for at Quantico. It wasn't something anyone would be equipped to deal with. Even someone like Don Eppes.

"Don, nobody expects you to………….."

"Granger. Don't."

Colby wasn't surprised by the resolve in Don's voice. He had never lost his cool in a hostage situation. In fact, Don was one of the most imperturbable negotiators he had ever seen in action. But there was a first time for everything and Colby wanted to give him the chance to gracefully bow out of this one.

"I can call in Bohannon."

"Bohannon is in Counterintelligence, Colby. He's not a negotiator. These guys aren't spies. They have hostages. We have to try to talk them out, first. Besides, they are federal prisoners attempting an escape. That's our jurisdiction and this would have landed in our laps even if I hadn't been here already. FPS secured the scene and now it's ours. That's how this works. I don't need another SAC in here. I've negotiated hostage situations before. I've been point man for the Hostage Rescue team before. Either way…I can do my job."

It almost sounded to Colby as if Don were trying to convince himself that he could handle this. Colby wasn't ready to buy it.

"And you're damn good at it too, Don. But you've never had to go up against this…………..Not with these kind of stakes."

There was a long pause before Don spoke again.

"I know. I know. But, we'll go by the book, Colby. All the way."

Megan snapped her fingers at him, drawing Colby's attention to the security cameras from the back lot behind the building. The Hostage Rescue Team had arrived, dressed out in full gear.

Colby sighed and relented to the senior agent.

"Okay, boss. By the book then. David's here with HRT."

"Good. They suited up?"

"Yeah."

"Send 'em up. Granger? I need you up here. Bring my gear."

"Got it."

"Megan, I need you to be my eyes down there."

"Got it covered, Don. They've got all surveillance up and running. I'm looking at you now."

"Okay."

Don searched the hallway and found the camera in the back corner. He hadn't even seen it up till then. He turned and looked directly into the lens.

"Let's get the team set up before we attempt contact. There's no telling what these two assholes are going to try. Guys, we know what happens when these things go wrong. We can't let this one go wrong. "

Colby and Megan exchanged a quick glance and Colby headed out the door to meet David and the team. Megan picked up the phone, taking Don off speaker.

"Eppes?"

"Yeah?"

Don was still looking into the camera.

She lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Are you ok?"

Megan watched the shadow pass over his face and it was obvious he was unsure of how to answer. Finally he decided on honesty.

"No. No, I'm not. I just shot one of the bastards. And Rawlings is dead. I'm guessing Sam is too? He was with Charlie."

"Sam Travis? They said we had one down in the courtroom. So, I'd say you're right."

"How is Charlie? Tell me the truth. How does he look, Megan? How bad does it look? Really?"

Megan looked again at the television monitor. Robin had sat down next to Charlie and she was holding his hand. Even in the black and white grainy security picture, she could see the blood that covered the front of her friend's shirt. He had his eyes closed now. In all honesty, he looked like he was dying….if he wasn't already dead. She swallowed hard, trying to prepare for something she had never done before. She didn't want her voice to shake when she lied to Don Eppes.

"He looks okay, Don. Scared. He looks scared. They all do."

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Charlie sat and listened to his heart pounding. His blood pressure was dropping and his heart rate was increasing to compensate. He glanced down at the once blue ladies suit jacket that was being pressed against his torso. His blood had already saturated the delicate material. Wondering how long he would be able to bleed like this and still have a minute chance at survival, Charlie closed his eyes and tried to remember basic anatomy. Upper right quadrant, lower chest……there were a lot of things in there that could sustain substantial damage without being instantly fatal. Liver, Pancreas, the Biliary Tract…..any of those things could take an indirect hit from a bullet without killing him if he received prompt medical attention.

Charlie found himself strangely amused at this feeble grasp for optimism.

The two remaining prisoners continued to pace and shout at one another and Charlie knew any chance at 'prompt' medical attention was long gone, and any chance of not bleeding to death was quickly settling into a sticky pool beneath him. Charlie could feel a warm sensation across his back as the blood from where the bullet had exited his body saturated his jacket. His favorite jacket. Corduroy. For a moment Charlie felt aggravation at the thought of having to take his jacket to the dry cleaners. Again. Could they get out blood? This flash of irrationality startled him and he realized he was quickly losing his ability to maintain cognitive thinking. Somehow that knowledge frightened him more than the sight of his own blood.

Robin felt Charlie's fingers lace through her own. Her hands were still shaking despite her best efforts to control it. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Frankie scooted up close to Charlie's side and took his other hand. Although she was afraid to take her eyes off of the two young men pacing the room, Robin forced herself to focus her attention on Don's younger brother. His complexion had paled considerably in the past ten minutes and Robin knew they were running out of time. Charlie needed help and he needed it fast. He had his head leaned back against the bench and his eyes were pinched shut. His body was tense, but his obvious efforts to stagger his breathing led her to believe that he was still conscious, but obviously in pain and trying to breath through it. She was aware that pain, in and of itself, can cause severe symptoms of shock. Compounded with the blood loss, the chances of getting Charlie out of this room alive were fading fast. Moving her eyes to the security camera, Robin hoped that they could see the details of what had happened in here. She had to believe that Don was on the other side of that camera and that he was prepared to handle this. Normal procedure in a hostage situation was to outlast the perpetrators. She had learned from Don that the longer this kind of situation lasted, the better the chances are that everyone would walk away. But somehow, she doubted Charlie would be able to survive the hour without medical attention. And these two guys were never going to give up without getting something in return.

And the only thing they could possibly have to gain would be their freedom. She didn't have to be an Assistant United States Attorney or the significant other of a federal agent to know that there was no way in hell the FBI was going to give these men their freedom in exchange for the seven civilians in this room.

If they couldn't _talk _them out, they would have to come in and _take _them out.

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**Authors Notes: **Sorry so much longer than usual between posts. Bad week. You've all been so generous with your comments and I really appreciate your taking the time to leave them!

**Chapter Five: Rules of Engagement May Not Apply**


	6. Rules of Engagement May Not Apply

**Chapter Five: Rules of Engagement May Not Apply**

The rain had gotten warmer. As the temperature increased, so did the intensity of the storm. LAPD Sergeant Brandon Hicks readjusted his poncho and mumbled to himself as he made his way across the sidewalk toward the police barricade. The wind kept trying to blow his hood off and rain kept dripping off his hair and running down his neck. It had already saturated the collar of his blue uniform shirt. He shook his head with disgust as he made his way around the black SUV that blocked the center of the courtyard. Those jokers from the FBI really thought they were something. First the guy parks on the sidewalk, now that…. woman…had ordered him to move the barricades and push the crowd back to the end of the block. She said the crowd was making her nervous. That was a laugh. A bunch of curious onlookers were hardly cause for alarm. They just wanted a good seat for when they started hauling body bags out of the building. This interagency cooperation thing was a load of crap.

He called out to the group of patrolmen who were guarding the perimeter.

"Folks, the feds seem to think we need to push this party to the end of the block. Let's move 'em back."

Sgt. Hicks had always considered himself to be an observant man.

But, if someone were to ask him later, he would have to admit that he had never seen it coming. The patrolmen were pushing the parameter and the crowd suddenly decided to push back. A group of young men began to shout at the officers who were requesting that they move. Without warning, the sound of a discharging weapon rang though the morning sky and a patrolman fell.

The other officers instantly scattered as they ones closest to the incident drew their own weapons.

Sgt. Hicks hit the ground behind the black SUV, and another series of gunshots were fired, and the window above his head exploded. He grabbed his walkie-talkie from his belt.

"We have an officer down! Officer down and we are taking fire! Multiple shooters, courthouse perimeter. I think our escapees may have had backup! Do you copy?"

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Megan wasn't sure why the crowd had seemed unusual to her. It was a Thursday morning and people are bound to gather when an incident occurs. They always do. It's like a train wreck. Everyone wants to stop and see, hoping to catch a glimpse of something they had never seen before. It may have had something to do with the rain, or the fact that there was a male majority, but this crowd had made her weary. She had left the control room to tell the LADP officer in charge of the police perimeter outside the building to move that barricade back.

She was halfway back across the lobby when the first shot was fired.

From inside the building, the repercussion was muted and could have easily been mistaken for a car backfiring if it hadn't been followed by a stream of bullets, several of which found the series of glass panels that enclosed the courthouse lobby.

The FBI's initial response team had made the lobby their command center. There were also about a dozen LAPD officers who had just finished clearing the building, not to mention the group of Federal Marshals who had decided to stick around. The sound of shattering glass and rapid gunfire evoked a common reaction among the group of well trained law enforcement professionals. The whole room dropped to the floor, almost in unison, drawing their own weapons.

The gunfire continued just outside the now open lobby. Megan scrambled across the floor, taking cover behind a black vinyl chair, just as Colby's voice spoke in her ear.

"Reeves? What the hell's going on out there?"

"Granger? Where are you?"

"I'm heading up the stairs with HRT. Why does it sound like all hell just broke loose in the lobby?"

Another round of bullets hit the shatter proof glass in the central window and the pane fell out onto the floor with the others. With the windows gone, the next gust of wind tore through the lobby and Megan had to yell to hear her own voice.

"THAT'S 'CAUSE IT DID, GRANGER! I think Don was right about the Mara 13th being a part of this thing! I'm going to issue a TAC alert and we're going to need LAPD to bring the SWAT team around front."

"Are you ok down there?"

She glanced around at the variety of officers who had begun to make their way to the doors. The gunfire had ceased and Megan cautiously rose to her feet.

"I think we've got it covered. They've already started running, but I'm gonna let SWAT know to wear the riot gear. Just in case. I'm heading back to the control room."

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David stepped aside and let the special ops team run past him, up the stairs. Colby had slowed his pace while he was talking to Megan.

"Can you believe that? The 13th just busted up the lobby."

Colby's astonishment was apparent in his voice.

David shook his head in disbelief.

"They've gotta know they don't stand a chance."

"Yeah, Megan said they're not sticking around. Just shoot and run."

"Well, I called Walker before we loaded up. I thought his insight might be helpful up here. He was headed for the control room. Megan can get his take on it."

"David? I didn't mention it before, but you should know..……Charlie's in there, man. And it doesn't look so good. Robin's in there with him."

David slowed his pace and turned to face his partner.

"What? Does Don know this?"

"Yeah, and he says he can handle it. But if this goes South……. …..David……we can't expect Don….."

"No. Of course not. I'll take care of it……..If…..."

Colby nodded and they both increased their speed catching up to the special ops team on the 9th floor.

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FPS Anderson stood and watched the LAPD SWAT team working to secure a perimeter and closing the nearby street that surrounded the courthouse. He watched the paramedics that had already been on the scene, loading an injured officer into the waiting ambulance.

"What did they hope to accomplish?"

Sergeant Hicks answered his question.

"Nothing. They're making noise because their guys blew the escape."

"I wouldn't assume that, Sergeant."

They turned to see Lt. Gary Walker standing in the doorway.

"The government picked a fight with the most violent, vindictive gang in the United States….maybe in the world. What did you expect?"

Megan shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, I didn't expect them to shoot up the federal courthouse and try to bust four low level punks out of lockup."

"No, I didn't expect you did. It's good to see you, Reeves."

He stuck out his hand, and she shook it.

"Likewise. I'm glad you're here. We have a problem, Walker."

He was eyeing the video that was streaming into the large center monitor. It was hard not to recognize a guy with hair like that.

"Is that who I think it is?"

Megan nodded silently.

Walker turned and watched the monitors that showed the street in front of the courthouse.

"The 13th was making a show of force. That's all this was. They were trying to prove a point…………it may not make sense to us, but to them……..even if we had taken them all out before they could run, they just told the US Government to kiss their collective ass."

"And other than making that point?"

"No. I doubt if there is more to it than that."

Lt. Walker shook his head.

"If their guys got out….okay. If they didn't…….well, they've made their point. Martyrdom is a big deal within these kinds of gangs."

Megan nodded.

"It's their own special way of achieving immortality."

He stared at her.

"Are you trying to profile a gang, Reeves?"

"Just the two in that courtroom."

"What are you thinking?"

She turned her eyes back to the center monitor.

"I'm thinking they don't intend to escape. I think negations might not be an option."

She motioned back toward the screen, and her voice took on a more urgent tone.

"And I think we just ran out of time. Something is happening in there."

Things had defiantly just taken a turn for the worse and as she watched the situation unfolding, she felt her blood run cold.

"Granger, are you guys up there yet?"

"Bravo team is in place. We're in the stairwell with Alpha on ten, making our approach. What's happening?"

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The two men had stopped pacing. They were now sitting on the Defense Attorney's table talking in quite whispers. The younger of the two, Manlio Salazar, was tossing his gun from hand to hand. He had been staring at her for several minutes now, and Robin was growing more and more panicked by his rapt attention. She was the prosecuting attorney and certainly he harbored more than a slight abhorrence for her. She knew his file front to back and the list of his offenses, both proven and suspected, were fresh in her mind. Trying to ignore him, she turned her attention back to Charlie. Frankie still had a firm hold on Charlie's hand and when Robin moved to readjust her own grip, Frankie looked up and met her eyes. His voice was a whisper.

"Is he gonna die?"

Charlie forced his eyes open and answered for himself.

"Not if I can help it, but I'm not making any promises."

His voice was weak and his speech dramatically slurred. But a strange calmness seemed to encompass his tone and Robin could tell he was beginning to sink into a state of delirium.

Robin felt Charlie squeeze her hand, as if to reassure her.

His grip was much weaker than it had been and his hand was cool and clammy. Robin tried to constrain the sob that was rising in her throat, but she failed.

Charlie lifted his eyes to the decorative clock that hung from the wall above the double doors that led into the hallway. Only twenty minutes had passed since the first shot had been fired. Only twenty minutes.

He had starting to feel very woozy when he had heard Frankie's question and putting forth the effort to speak had almost been to much. Charlie felt his mind start to wonder again as he watched the second hand circle around the clock

"_Time is a comedian, Charles. A comic illusionist forever playing to an audience that is too captivated to look away. It's a trick done with lights and mirrors that are meant to hypnotize us and divert our attentions away from the important things. The passage of time is merely apparent and we must simply learn to ignore it. However amusing it may be." _

_Larry was trying to make a point that had had nothing to do with physics and Charlie had completely missed it giving him a standard textbook answer._

"_The second is the duration of 9,192,631,770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the cesium 133 atom. You're a physicist, Larry. The isotope of an atom is used to measure time. It can be measured and you know it. It can be measured in units other than those of time itself, calculated to precise digits. That makes it quite tangible."_

_Amita had laughed at the exasperation on the older professor's face. _

"_You know what Larry, you may be right. We do live in the botox capitol of the world."_

"_Yes, no better place to ignore time."_

Charlie chuckled as he watched the second hand circle the clock.

It was there and it was completely measurable and ignoring it wasn't going to slow those clock hands down….or speed them up.

Charlie began to count. He defined the cesium measurements for a minute….then twenty minutes…..then an hour. He might have continued his calculations into weeks, months and years if someone hadn't kicked him….hard.

"What the hell's your problem, huh? You got something to say?"

Robin's soft voice came to his defense.

"Please, he's delirious. He doesn't know what he's saying. He's just counting."

"Well, shut him up. We're trying to think, here."

Charlie felt so sluggish now. Nothing was moving at full speed. Through a haze of pain and fear, he realized quite suddenly that he now knew what if felt like to die.

With a monumental effort, Charlie shifted his eyes from the clock to the angry young man in the orange jumpsuit. He wanted to tell him that he would be quiet. He tried to focus, but his corneas wouldn't obey. The edges of his vision blurred and then the room began to spin around him. Charlie tried to fight for consciousness, but the reprieve from the anguish and horror that had filled the past twenty minutes was too tempting. His eyes closed, and Charlie slumped against the bench.

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Authors Notes: Everybody take a deep breath. Hoping to write like mad over the weekend….

**Chapter Six: The Essential Condition of Life**


	7. The Essential Condition of Life

_This is it my friends. The point of no return. Language gets a little ugly here (some of it not in English) and then there's that whole violence thing._

**Chapter Six: The Essential Condition of Life**

When Charlie's body went slack, Frankie quickly pulled himself up to his knees.

"Charlie?"

The boys eyes filled with tears.

Robin watched as the man with the gun shrugged his shoulders.

"At least he'll be quiet now."

She reached for Charlie's throat and clamored for a pulse, not fully expecting to find one. In the crook of his neck, she located a heartbeat. It was faint, but rapid.

A tremendous wave of relief washed over her and she turned to Frankie with a forced smile.

"He's just resting, honey. It's ok."

She turned her eyes toward their oppressor.

"Please. He needs a doctor, or he is going to die."

"He's not dead?"

She looked up at him earnestly.

"Not yet."

The man shook his head and looked at Charlie.

" Está...Vergeado."

Robin decided to risk pleading.

"Please. If you let him go, I'm sure it will go a long way with the police. Please. I'm begging you. Call them. Tell them you're giving up a hostage, then let them come in and get him."

The other man had jumped down from his perch on the table and headed down the isle toward them as he spoke.

"A hostage, huh? Like on TV, right? We give them one of you and they give us a thermos of coffee and a bag of donuts? I don't think so. Do you think they are going to try to save you? Do you think you're that important."

He stopped in front of them and leaned toward Robin.

"Well, what do you think they're waiting for then, huh, puta? Maybe we didn't give them enough bodies to get their attention."

He gave his associate a definitive nod.

"Ponerse huevos. You know what we have to do?"

Manlio nodded nervously and turned to Robin. He pressed the gun against her forehead until the back of her head collided with the bench behind her and the other man leaned back against the table again as he addressed Robin.

"You still ready to offer us life without parole, bitch? We'll never get out of here alive and you know it. And so do we. It was a great offer, but it's freedom or death. And we already know we aren't gettin' the first one. I think a few more counts of murder one should just about cinch the case for lethal injection. What do you think?"

There was no time to think…….to act……to speak.

Robin shifted her eyes to look at Charlie. The elevated volume of their voices had pulled him back into a state of semi-awareness. He had opened his eyes again and although he was barely holding on to consciousness, he had a full perception of what was happening and his grip on her hand tightened. Their eyes locked. The glance only lasted for a half a second. But in that moment, time; the comedian, the illusion, stood still. When Robin squeezed her eyes shut, Charlie did the same.

Then Manlio pulled the trigger.

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"Oh my God."

Megan couldn't hear the shot from inside the security control room. But she had felt it. All the way down to her soul.

"Reeves?"

Colby's voice filled her ear.

"What is it?"

"Send in Bravo. Don doesn't need……… Shit."

She had to pause and consciously consider the words she needed to speak.

"They just…….that bastard just killed Robin."

Nothing could have prepared the two agents for Megan's words. After a moment of shocked silence, the years of training took over.

Colby turned to David.

"Sinclair? You've got Point."

Don was just getting suited up and faltered at Colby's words. His face paled as he turned to confront his subordinate.

"Granger?"

Colby shook his head and took Don's arm, leading him into the corner.

This wasn't something they trained you for at Quantico either.

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The FBI's Hostage Rescue Team was a SWAT team that had been created with one specific purpose in mind…..And their name pretty much summed it up. They existed because negotiations fail. Because people are unreasonable……….and sometimes they're just friggin' crazy. They existed because there were times when lethal force was a required element, and the only viable option. Once a hostage situation went south, that was all that was left. It was shoot first, ask questions later……...hopefully without getting killed, and without killing a hostage. They all knew this was one of those times, and that was why they were here.

The team stood quietly in the stairwell, on the 10th floor, their eyes glued to Special Agent Don Eppes. He had turned his back to the team and was leaning into the corner with one arm over his head, supporting himself against the wall with the other. Special Agent Granger was leaning close to him, talking quietly and shaking his head. Something _very _personal had just gone _very _wrong.

Special Agent David Sinclair took their SAC's place and turned to open the door. The team didn't question the change in leadership, and they filed past the two agents as Don slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

Sinclair was speaking to them now, his voice authoritative in their headsets.

"Things have changed. This is a dynamically evolving situation. There are still two active shooters, confined to the courtroom. We are losing hostages, so they just lost their right to a negotiator. We are treating this as a level one situation and you are authorized to take down the subjects by whatever means necessary."

They stood just outside the courtroom entrance and gave their weapons one last check. Just as David reached for the door handle, another shot rang out from inside the closed room.

"Bravo team…you're a go."

He turned to the five men behind him.

"Alpha. Let's move."

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When Robin's body slumped forward, Frankie pushed himself backwards and scrambled frantically under the seats. Manlio lifted the gun and fired just over Charlie's head and splinters flew from the wooden bench.

"I'm coming after you next you little snitch."

Then he turned back, stepping over Robin's body and placed the gun against the side of Charlie's head.

"Do you think they'll be willing to negotiate now? Huh, do you? Well, they have nothing we want. Nothing they can give us. How many of you do we have to kill before they come in here and finish this?"

Charlie opened his eyes again and looked at Robin's body. He wanted to scream. But he could not find his voice. It didn't matter now. Robin had tried so hard to save him and she had paid the ultimate price for her efforts. The sensation of hard steel pressing hard into his head sent a shiver down his spine and a not so distant memory played through his mind. He had accepted it then…….Accepted it and then this very man had presented the opportunity that allowed him to escape it. But there was nowhere to run this time. And even if there was, he was in no condition to hurdle any fences. He was already dying. And he knew it. Charlie closed his eyes again and acknowledged that the next sound he heard would be his last.

_Authors Notes: Thanks for your encouragement and support. I hope I still have it._

**_Chapter Seven: The Valley of the Shadow _**


	8. The Valley of the Shadow

**Chapter Seven: The Valley of the Shadow **

Megan watched on the monitors as the team rushed the room. The second fugitive didn't even have time to raise his weapon. The man who was now holding a gun to Charlie's head turned quickly at the sound of the doors busting open. But he never had time to fire the shot. It appeared that all six members of the Alpha team and the four members of the Bravo team put two bullets in each perpetrator simultaneously.

It had taken less than twenty five minutes from first shot fired to last shot fired. But for Robin Brooks, it had been five minutes too long.

The four women that were huddled on the floor began to cry and sob hysterically as they were pulled to their feet and ushered out of the room.

David waited until his wing man checked both bullet riddled bodies. When the 'clear' signal went out, he shouldered his assault rifle and headed down the isle toward the two familiar figures on the floor. A movement between the benches got his attention and David quickly pulled his sidearm. A pair of kid sized shoes shot out from under a bench as a small body scrambled further away from the center isle. David quickly re-holstered the weapon and knelt down to look under the seats.

"Frankie? It's the FBI. You can come out now."

The boy turned his head and spotted him. Slowly, Frankie backed out into the isle and pulled himself to his feet. His eyes were streaming with tears as he stared at David and began to sob.

"He killed them. He killed them both."

Grabbing the boy by the shoulders, David looked him over for injury. Finding none, he turned to a passing agent.

"Get him out of here."

He watched Frankie cast a mournful glance over his shoulder as the agent lead him from the room. Then David turned back to the bodies on the floor. He reached Robin first and despite the pool of blood around her head, he checked for a pulse.

"She's dead, David."

Megan's voice was low in his ear.

He lifted his eyes to the security camera in the corner, where he knew she was watching.

"Yeah, I know. But……...I had to check."

Then he turned to Charlie. The quantity of blood that had saturated his shirtfront had lead David to believe that that his unique colleague…… …..his friend…..was already dead.

He was shocked beyond words to find a pair of docile brown eyes following his every move. The eyelids blinked, and a tear left a trail in the blood that covered the right side of his face. Robin's blood.

"Awww, shit. Charlie?"

Pulling Charlie's jacket apart he wanted to get a look at the source of the bleeding.

"Charlie. Just hang on, man. We're gonna get somebody in here to help you."

He found a small entry wound on the lower right side of Charlie's chest. As he felt around Charlie's back, a large saturated area confirmed that there was an exit wound and it was the primary source of the bleeding. When he took into account the amount of blood that saturated the front of his clothes and the floor around where had had been sitting, David could not comprehend how Charlie could still be alive.

Speaking into his headset, David looked into Charlie's eyes.

"Just stay with us, Charlie."

He had fought so hard………but he was fading now.

"Tell Colby, we need Don in here! Megan?"

Her steady voice quickly replied.

"They called in a Medivac Chopper already. It's just touched down on the roof, David. I'm sending them to you."

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Don was sitting on the stairwell floor, with his head in his hands. Colby had told him what had happened on the street outside the courthouse and what Megan had just witnessed on the security monitors. As David and the HRT rushed past him into the hallway, Don felt as if his whole world had just come to a crashing halt.

_Charlie is down_. That sentence had taken him to the edge of a cliff he had never wanted to get that close to again. For ten minutes he had teetered on the edge of that precipice, waiting for a reprieve. A reprieve that they had both gotten not that long ago…and somehow he had taken for granted that they would get it again.

But the cliff face was too steep this time.

_Robin is dead_. Those three words had just pushed him over the edge of that dreaded crag and he still wasn't sure if he would ever reach the bottom of this abyss.

A simple sentence had just altered his entire existence. Don wasn't sure if he would truly ever be capable of caring about anything, ever again. Everything had just vanished. Every good thing that ever happened to him had just been taken away by a single bullet.

Those bastards had never negotiated for anything. They had nothing to gain but their freedom and they had lost that chance when they met him in the elevator. Slain by the FBI, they would live forever in infamy, martyrs for their gang. And they had chosen to take two of the most important people in his life with them.

He wanted to be angry. He would have settled for fear or even sadness. But instead he felt nothing. Just empty. Numb and cold and empty. He couldn't cry, he couldn't move. He couldn't feel. And he didn't care. He didn't want to. Not anymore. All of these years he had made every effort to conceal what he felt almost ninety nine percent of the time. Robin had changed all of that. She had changed his life by showing him how to live it. And now she was gone. And now he had nothing. Numb and cold and empty.

_Robin is dead._

"Don?"

Colby was still standing over him. He hadn't even realized that he wasn't alone in the stairwell. He had no perception of how much time had passed. He just felt so alone. Lifting his head to look at the younger agent, Don felt an obscure reaction to the look on Colby's face .………something like confusion.

"Don? Come on, man."

Don felt like he was climbing out of a deep hole and when he spoke, his voice was in monotone, almost completely devoid of emotion despite the words he spoke.

"Colby? I don't know what to do. I don't……….what do I do?"

When the younger man knelt down next to him, Don was appalled to see unshed tears in the corners of Colby's eyes.

"Charlie's dying, Don. Your brother needs you. _That_ is what you do now."

He stood and stuck out his hand for his boss. Don took it and allowed Colby to pull him to his feet and lead him out of the confines of the stairwell and down the hall toward the courtroom…..to Charlie.

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Authors Notes: I am wowed by your comments. I'm glad you are so involved with this story. It's very exciting to get such positive feedback on something I have been rather nervous about. Thank you. And even the not so enthusiastic feedback is encouraging because I know you are still reading. Please keep letting me know what you think.

**Chapter Eight: The Sky is Falling**

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For those who are interested in the dialect of our Salvadorian gang members, ruthless killers that they are….…….since I cannot post an actual web address here (it won't let me) I'll just tell you where to look. Wikipedia has a pretty extensive section on Salvadorian Spanish. I don't use that sight as a primary source of information, but it seems to have a pretty complete section on the linguistics of Caliche. I can't find a straight up translation dictionary - but here is what I have used and what it means.

Está...Vergeado means 'He's all F'ed up.'

Verga - That one starts with an F too.

Puta - derogatory word for a female…usually interpreted as 'whore'

Ponerse huevos - we have to make an effort. Let's give it our best shot.

Hope that answers any questions. If you believe there are any errors in my translations please send me a private email so I have the opportunity to correct them.

Thanks!


	9. The Sky is Falling

**Chapter Eight: The Sky is Falling**

Don was operating on autopilot when he climbed into the Medevac Chopper and took the seat at the top of Charlie's gurney. He looked intently at his younger brother. His face and hair had gotten wet from the rain during the brief trip across the roof and into the chopper and several dark curls were plastered to his cheek. The thought occurred to Don that if they'd just stayed in the rain a little longer, it could have washed some of the blood off.

There had just been so much blood.

David had tried to cover the puddle on the floor in the courtroom, just as he had covered Robin's body. But Don still knew it was there. It had taken every ounce of strength he had not to fall by her side….and hold her….one more time. But if he had, he would still be kneeling there. And Charlie needed him. Charlie was still alive.

The EMT leaned over Don's head to hang a bag of saline. The paramedics had been unable to find a vein for the IV, so they had used the external jugular for the line.

"Reach up there and squeeze that bag."

It took Don a minute to realize the uniformed EMT was talking to him.

"What?"

"Just gently squeeze the bag."

Don silently obeyed, keeping his eyes on Charlie's face.

He could hear the man in the front of the chopper as he called ahead to their destination.

"UCLA This is Medevac Unit Two. In route to your facility…..30 year old male, single gunshot wound to the upper abdomen. Severe hemorrhagic shock. ETA six minutes"

"Charles? Can you look at me?"

They must have gotten his name out of his wallet. Don couldn't remember if anyone had asked him. Charlie appeared to still be conscious, but he had made no apparent effort to acknowledge anyone and did not respond to his proper name. Don interjected his voice cracking as he spoke.

"He likes to be called Charlie."

"Charlie. Charlie? Can you hear me, partner? Can you talk to me?"

The other EMT who was riding with them in the back of the chopper adjusted the controls on the oxygen tank that led to the mask he had just placed over Charlie's face.

Charlie's breathing was already rapid and the mass influx of oxygen provoked a reaction. Charlie reached up and pulled the mask off.

Don watched his younger brother's eyes fill up with tears. He blinked and several tears ran down his cheek and pooled in his ear.

The EMT moved to put the mask back on and again Charlie pushed it off.

"Ok, partner. You need to keep this on."

Don moved up closer, taking the oxygen mask away from the EMT and leaned over Charlie's face.

"Hey, Buddy. Hey. I'm right here. Just take it easy okay? Put this back on."

Charlie shook his head weakly. Through a now steady stream of tears, his eyes focused on Don's.

"m sorry...couldn't help….her."

Don shook his head and clenched his teeth. The emotions he had thought would never return were suddenly crashing down around him and filling up the empty void.

"No. You're not going to do this, Charlie. This is not your fault."

"m really sorry. Tell Dad….love him."

Don felt as if he had been slapped in the face when he realized what Charlie was doing.

"No. NO. Don't you dare."

"love you….Donnie..."

"No, Charlie."

The heart monitor at his side changed it's pitch and Don felt an acidic panic rising in his chest. His voice quavered and he shook his head in shocked disbelief.

"Don't you dare say goodbye."

The volume of the tone increased followed by an extended beep that sent Don's heart plummeting into his feet.  
"Charlie?"

"He's in Fib!"

The paramedic grabbed a set of paddles from their place next to the gurney and an electric buzz filled the interior of the chopper as the defibrillator charged.

"CLEAR"

The first jolt from the defibrillator lifted Charlie off the gurney and Don felt his own body jerk in reaction to the sound.

Don reached out and grabbed the sides of his younger brother's head.

"DAMN IT, CHARLIE! Open your eyes. Look at me. Don't do this to me."

The man with the paddles put out his arm and pushed Don away.

"Sir, get back."

"CLEAR"

The second jolt ripped through Charlie's body and Don put his hands up over his face.

He couldn't watch this. He just couldn't. He started talking. To God, or to himself, he wasn't sure which, but it didn't matter.

"I can't do this. I can't lose them both. Not like this. Don't let this happen. Please. Don't let this happen."

After the next jolt from the defibrillator, Don's pleas were answered by the return of a steady beep.

"We've got a rhythm."

"Hang on, partner. Keep fighting. We're almost there."

Don lifted his head and fixed his eyes on his brother's pale face.

"Is he? Is he going to be alright?"

Don knew it was a stupid question, but he had to ask it anyway.

"Well, his heart's beating. We're doing everything we can."

The two paramedics continued to hover over Charlie as the helicopter landed on the roof. The doors opened and hands reached in and pulled Charlie's gurney out the door and back out into the rain. Don jumped down and followed close behind trying to comprehend the stream of information that they began to spout concerning Charlie's condition.

"Gunshot wound, visibly entry and exit, BP 50 over 30. Pulse 160."

"How long as he been hypotensive?"

"He was like this when we got there….tachycardia is the same too."

"This the guy from the courthouse shooting?"

"Yeah, he's the one. We almost lost him on the way over here. We're looking at at least a forty percent depletion."

"He's hypoxic."

"Don't wait. Let's get him intubated."

Don stopped in his tracks when one of the doctors climbed onto the gurney as the rest of the crew continued to push it down the hall. He had thought they only did that on television. He un-rooted his feet and ran to catch up, as the group of nurses, doctors and paramedics filled the elevator around Charlie. All of them were frantically doing something in an attempt to keep him alive. There was no room for Don in there….and he stepped back and looked into the elevator. He had wanted to see Charlie one more time. One last time. But the doctor who was trying to get a tube down Charlie's throat was obstructing his face.

As the doors slid shut he heard one of the hospital staff talking to the Medevac EMT.

"The blood loss is too substantial. He's never going to make it."

"This one is a fighter, Doc. Give him a chance."

Then the doors closed and Charlie was gone.

Don felt a hand on his arm. A young woman in blue scrubs hadn't boarded the elevator with the others and was looking at him with concern.

"Sir, are _you _injured?"

Don looked at her blankly for a moment trying to imagine what could have given her an idea like that. Then he realized his hands were covered with his brother's blood and large patches of scarlet were visible on his white dress shirt. He had leaned over Charlie and helped roll him onto the backboard when the paramedics had arrived in the courtroom. He had held his brother's hand while they had tried to start an intravenous line.

And there had just been so much blood.

"Sir?"

Don shook his head.

"No."

He looked at the crimson coating on his hands.

"I'm not hurt. It's all his."

She nodded and gently put her hand on his back.

"They'll do everything they can, officer."

The badge, gun and cuffs on his belt were hard to miss. He had almost forgotten he was wearing them.

"Do you know how to notify his family?"

She was assuming Charlie was one of his agents…or a cop.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

He paused and then continued, almost as an afterthought.

"I'm his brother."

Her eyes softened and she put her arm around Don's waist and began to lead him toward the other elevator.

"They'll be taking him straight to the OR. You should wait downstairs in trauma. There are going to be some forms you'll need you fill out. I'll take you down."

Don pulled away from her and headed for the stairs without looking back.

"Thanks, I already know the way."

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Alan stood in the open doorway and stared at the two agents who had just arrived. Megan Reeves and Colby Granger had been on Don's team for well over a year now and they had both spent time at the house on multiple occasions. But they had never just 'dropped by'. Not like this. And from the expressions they both wore, Alan knew that life as he knew it was about to change.

He had waited over ten years for this day. For the first twenty four months after Don had become a field agent, every time the doorbell rang unexpectedly, he had felt the cold tendrils of panic encircle his heart. But he had learned to suppress it. He had learned how to live around the constant dread that his eldest son's profession evoked in him. And after the incident that took place early in the summer, he had again been forced to relinquish the fear that had threatened to incapacitate him.

But despite his efforts, it had lingered and was floating just under the surface.

Waiting for this.

This day.

This moment.

And in a strange way, he felt ready.

But when Megan took his arm, the words he heard were not what he had braced himself for.

"Alan. Something has happened."

He looked calmly from Megan to Colby.

"Don."

Megan shook her head. Her eyebrows were knitted tightly together and her green eyes were filled with sorrow.

"No. No. Don is…..…..alright."

She paused and took a deep breath trying not to be affected by the look of confusion on Alan's face. She had rehearsed what she had planned to say to Don and Charlie's father all the way to the house, but the words were not cooperating. She turned her eyes to Colby and he continued speaking for her.

"Alan. Robin Brooks was shot and killed this morning. At the courthouse."

"Oh. Oh, God."

"Alan. Ch…Charlie…."

He didn't let Colby finish.

"No."

This was not what he had expected.

This was not what he had prepared himself for.

Megan still had a hand on his arm, and when she found her voice, it was trembling.

"They've taken Charlie to UCLA. He was shot, Alan. Don's with him."

After lowering himself to the edge of the easy chair in the main room, Alan tried to assimilate the information he had just been given.

He shook his head in denial. It wasn't possible. Don had promised. Just yesterday afternoon. Don had promised that Charlie was perfectly safe. That he was watching him and that he was perfectly safe. How could this have happened?

Megan knelt down next to his knee, so she could look up at him.

"Don is……well he's pretty tore up right now……with Robin and……..well, Charlie is……it's bad, Alan. We just need to get to the hospital. Is there somebody I can call? Your sister maybe?"

Alan shook his head, his face a mask of anguish.

"She's in Florida. What could she do?"

"Ok. Ok."

She took Alan's arm as he stood up and Colby held open the door for them.

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_A evanescent moment of absolute happiness. That was what he had felt. _

_He had told Don he was sorry. Robin was dead and there was nothing he could have done. Not really, but he should have tried. Maybe for that, he deserved to die. _

_He had told Don that he loved him. He had been a child the last time he had done that. Charlie just hated that this time would also be the last. _

_He wanted to say more. There really was so much more that had been left unsaid between them. Things that they just didn't talk about. But still, Don wanted him to stay. He had asked him not to go. And Charlie had tried to answer….wanted to promise that he would try. Wanted to say that he would be there for him….for once._

_But then something inside him just stopped. _

_And then it didn't hurt anymore. There was no more pain. There was no more fear. There was no more sorrow. Just him. _

_And something else. Something familiar. _

_Warm. Happy. _

_It wasn't like a light. Or an angel. Or even a voice. Just a presence. _

_But one he would have known under any circumstances. _

_He felt the way he had as a small child, when some unknown demon had pulled him from sleep and she had been there. He had never even had to call for her. She just always seemed to know when he needed her to be close by. Like now. And he knew she was there. And that was enough._

_And so he was happy. _

_For a perfect, beautiful moment that was all he felt. _

_Then the world exploded into a sea of pain he could never have imagined even in the worst of nightmares. And just as suddenly, it was gone and so was everything else, except for a dull, steady beeping that slowly faded as Charlie slipped quietly into total oblivion._

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Authors Notes: As always - thank you for your comments. Monday begins our first full week of school here, and my daughter just started kindergarten…..this change has prompted shift changes and schedules are being adjusted to wrap around this new ritual. So bear with me if I'm a little slow.

**Chapter Nine: Tell God to Stop Laughing**


	10. Tell God to Stop Laughing

**Chapter Nine: Tell God to Stop Laughing**

Don sat in the hard chair and stared at his hands, which he had clasped between his knees. He needed to find a phone. He should call his father. The thought had barely passed across his mind when someone called his name.

"Don."

He looked up and saw David striding across the floor towards him.

"Do you know anything yet?"

Don sucked his lower lip between his teeth and bit down. He shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak.

David nodded solemnly and walked toward the nurses' station just as his phone rang.

"Sinclair."

"David?"

It was Megan. Her voice quivered when she said his name and David was grateful that Colby has chosen to go with her. He wasn't sure he would have been able to tell Alan something like this. Megan coughed to clear her voice.

"Any news?"

"Nothing yet. I just got over here."

"How's Don?"

"How would you be?"

He caught himself and softened his tone.

"He's……I don't know."

Silence filled the line and it seemed that there were no words that could fill the void. David turned back toward the row of chairs and watched as Don lowered his head into his hands, his elbows on his knees.

"He's in hell, Megan."

"I……I know. We just picked up Alan and we're on our way."

"Okay."

"Alright."

He ended the call and walked back to the subjugated figure of Don Eppes.

"Megan and Colby went to get your father. They're on their way."

Again Don was afraid to respond. His face was screwed up in a knot of emotion that he was fighting hard to contain. He nodded in silence without even lifting his eyes.

Minutes passed, but to Don each second felt like an hour. The numbing cold he had felt in the courthouse stairwell finally began to settle in his stomach again and he welcomed it. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to feel…..nothing. Just when he thought he would be able to face what was yet come, a pair of familiar shoes appeared in front of him.

"Donnie? Son?"

The quiver in his own voice made Alan's knees weak and when Don lifted his head, he was devastated by the despair he could see in his son's eyes. The blood that had dried on his shirt and hands caught Alan's eye and he stiffened. An audible gasp escaped his lips and he had to force himself to look away. Although there were questions to be asked and answers to be given, no more words were spoken. Don's pained expression and soiled clothing told him what he needed to know. He took a seat next to his son, put his hand on his knee, and both men stared at the floor in silence.

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Clock watching. It was something Don usually tried to avoid. But the silence in the room was all encompassing but for the tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall. So he had lifted his eyes and watched it. It didn't make it move any faster.

"_..BP 50 over 30…."_

Don blinked rapidly.

"…_..a forty percent depletion."_

There had just been so much blood.

"…_.love you Donnie….."_

Charlie had said goodbye. His little brother had told him goodbye.

"_He's never going to make it."_

How could he possibly stand a chance? He had already given up.

"_Robin is dead."_

The words and phrases that had slowly taken apart what was left of his world repeated over and over in his head. Along with the reoccurrence of the three words that had shattered it, they were threatening to drive away whatever part of his sanity he was still hanging onto.

Everything had been going so well. Everything had been perfect. As close to perfect as Don thought it would ever get. And bit by bit, it was being taken away. Soon there would be nothing left.

Things continued to move around them and although the others tried to remain respectfully silent, phones still rang and information was still exchanged as his three colleagues continued to do their jobs from different corners of the hospital waiting room. Don wanted to be alone in his silence…alone with his grief and his guilt. But yet he was grateful for some kind of distraction. He only caught bits and pieces of each conversation and for the most part he ignored the words, using the voices to block out his own thoughts. It wasn't until Agent Snyder arrived that Don was able to truly distract himself from the internal anguish in his heart.

Snyder was deep in conversation with David. Their voices were a hushed murmur. A hospital whisper. But hearing his own name got Don's attention.

"Eppes knew something was off. Said he saw one of them. In the lobby. Showed Marcus the surveillance video…..I think he recognizes the guy. But now he won't say anything. Whoever that baldheaded S.O.B. is, the kid is terrified of him."

"Where is he?"

"The kid? Still at the courthouse. Paramedics were with his brother."

"I didn't think Frankie was injured?"

"Not physically, no. He's just in shock."

"Yeah. I can see why."

Don suddenly felt as if his heart had started beating again. Someone was responsible for this. There was someone to blame.

Someone besides himself.

Someone had planned this. Someone had given those men the weapon they had used. It was someone's fault. And he had seen him.

Someone had a face. And he was going to find it.

And then he was going to make the bastard sorry that his mother had ever given him life.

Don pulled himself to his feet and walked decisively across the room. He paused in front of Colby.

"Give me your keys."

"What?"

He repeated the request with unequivocal force.

"Give. Me. Your. Keys."

Colby took a step back and hesitantly removed the keys from his pocket. Don didn't wait for him to give them up. He snatched them out of his hand and quickly turned toward the door.

He paused again to look at Megan.

"Call Larry. Make sure somebody stays with Dad until he gets here."

She did a double take, uncertain as to what Don intended to do, but unwilling to let him do it alone.

"Hang on. I'll come with you."

Alan looked up at his son.

"Don. Donnie? Where are you going?"

Don didn't reply, but instead headed out the door and into the misty rain that was still falling. Megan quickly tossed her phone to David.

"Larry's number two on the speed dial."

Following Don into the parking lot, she had to run to catch up.

"Don."

He didn't stop.

"DON!"

Her supervisor reached the vehicle quickly. The doors were locked despite the missing rear window where a bullet had shattered the glass.

"What the hell are you doing, Don?"

He turned to look at her as he unlocked the doors.

"I can't stay here. I have to do _something_."

Megan brushed her wet hair out of her face.

"Your father needs you."

"No. My father needs Charlie. There's nothing I can do for either of them here. I have to find this bastard, Megan. He walked right by me. I have to find him."

Don's grief had transformed into a rage that shook his voice.

She moved closer and tried to get him to look her in the eye.

"Then let us help you."

He didn't respond, but instead climbed into the driver's seat.

"Don, please. There is a right way to do this."

He turned to look at her again as he started the engine.

"Not today. Not today, Megan. The rules have changed."

He slammed the door, then put the SUV in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. Megan watched in dismay as Don shifted gears without applying the brakes and the gears shrieked as the vehicle was forced to change directions. Don flipped on the headlights and the windshield wipers as he pulled out of the parking lot, squealing the tires on the wet roadway.

Megan was left standing alone in the parking lot. Not knowing what to do besides go after him, she turned back toward the emergency room doors, breaking into run halfway across the parking lot. When she stumbled back into the waiting room, Megan came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a man in surgical scrubs talking quietly to Alan.

David stood close behind him and appeared to be keeping the older man on his feet.

"…..the bullet has perforated the upper right lobe of his liver. We have managed to contain the hemorrhaging and we are going to stay in and make an effort to remove as much of the damaged tissue was possible."

Alan blinked and Megan felt her heart breaking as a tear ran from his eye and down his cheek. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Colby had walked up next to her. Reaching up, she patted his hand as the doctor continued speaking.

"The trauma to the liver is significant. But right now our primary concern is the level of blood loss. Your son came in in a state of severe hypovolemic shock. His heart was overexerting, working to maintain a viable blood pressure and he developed an atrial fibrillation."

Alan staggered and grew several shades paler.

"His heart stopped?"

"Yes. On the way here. But they were able to get a normal rhythm again and his heart _is _beating on it's own."

He waited for Alan to nod and acknowledge this fact before he continued.

"What's happening to Charlie right now is that the oxygen level in his blood has dropped drastically and the carbon monoxide levels have increased. This puts him at severe risk for respiratory failure, so we do have him on a ventilator. We've started him on an influx of plasma to combat the blood loss, but we won't know how much damage the oxygen deprivation caused until we get him out of surgery and get him out from under the anesthesia.

The words sent a shiver down Alan's spine.

"Oxygen deprivation? You mean he may have organ damage…...or, or brain damage?"

The doctor side-stepped answering this question.

"Mr. Eppes, Charlie's procedure is likely to take several hours. If you need to….."

"No. No. I'm staying right here."

He glanced perfidiously at the door that Don had just exited.

"_I'm _staying right here."

The trauma surgeon turned and headed back into the hospital….back to Charlie. And with David's help, Alan lowered himself shakily into the chair.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to Charlie.

Not to the little one.

Margaret would never forgive him. And Don would never forgive himself.

He turned his tearful eyes to Megan.

"Where did he go?"

"I….I'm not sure, Alan. But we're going to go find him."

David handed her back her cell phone.

"Larry is on his way. He'll be here in five minutes. "

Alan turned to David, his voice pleading.

"Don't wait. I'm fine. Please. Don isn't thinking…………what if he?……….I'm afraid of what he might do."

Megan patted his arm reassuringly.  
"I know. We'll find him."

With a silent consensus, the three agents headed out into the rain, leaving Alan alone in the lobby. As they walked across the lot to the car, Megan filled them in on what Don had said to her as he was leaving.

"I'm just afraid he's going to do something stupid. He shouldn't be alone. Not right now."

Colby stared at her in shocked disbelief.

"I know he's hurting……….we're all……you know? God, it's….Charlie. And I know how he felt about Robin. But….. you aren't seriously afraid _Don _is going to try to eat a bullet?"

Megan shook her head forcefully.

"Hell no. I'm afraid he's going to feed one to somebody else."

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Next Chapter……

**Chapter Ten: Circumstances Brought Me to This**


	11. Circumstances Brought Me to This

**Chapter Ten: Circumstances Brought Me to This**

Don drove toward downtown Los Angeles like he was competing in the 500 series on the California raceway. He was halfway there before he remembered to turn on his emergency lights and siren. He wanted people to know he was coming and give them a chance to get out of his way.

He just wanted everybody to stay out of his way.

The rain began to taper off as Don reached the police barricade that now had a full square block around the courthouse cordoned. He showed his badge and was allowed to pull the SUV through and up to the front of the building. He was tempted to pull up onto the sidewalk in much the same way Colby had done earlier in the morning, but opted for an empty spot on the side of the street.

As he walked through the empty frames that once enclosed the front of the courthouse lobby, Don remembered the last time he had walked through those doors.

"_See, aren't you glad I made you get your raincoat?"_

"_Maybe I like the rain."_

"_And the rain makes the flowers grow. But I'll take the glaring sun over this mess any day."_

"_It takes both sun and rain to make the flowers grow, Robin."_

He was being intentionally facetious and she had laughed. She had tossed her hair back and laughed. He could still hear her. He could still see her smile. He could practically feel her standing next to him. He glanced around the almost empty lobby and tried to bring himself back to the present and focus on what had brought him back here……to this place. As a light breeze sent a shiver though him, Don realized he was no longer wearing his raincoat and had no recollection of when or where he had taken it off. His suit jacket was missing too. His white shirt was sticking to his skin and the blood……Charlie's blood, which had started to dry across the front had been suddenly rehydrated by the rain and the coppery smell wafted up into his face.

Don found himself in the bathroom, kneeling in one of the stalls and not entirely certain how he had made it there. He held tightly to the toilet seat and allowed his stomach to expel its contents into the basin. He continued to retch for several minutes until he was able to contain the spasms that were racking his body.

Don had just pulled himself back to his feet when a knock at the stall door made him start in surprise.

"Eppes?"

The forceful voice of Lieutenant Walker echoed in the room.

"Saw you come in. Thought you could use this."

He slung a gray FBI t-shirt over the stall door.

"One of your HRT guys had a spare."

"Thanks."

Don was disgusted by the vulnerability he could hear in his own voice.

He took a deep breath and tried again.

"I appreciate it."

It was still there.

Walker was silent while Don changed his shirt. When he opened the stall door, the officer was leaning against the countertop. He watched Don toss his soiled shirt in the trash can.

"I'm sorry. I know there's little solace in it, Eppes….but I don't know what else I can say."

Don pursed his lips together and leaned over the sink, splashing water in his face and then making an attempt to wash the blood from his hands. After a few moments he gave up and grabbed a handful of paper towels, rubbing his face dry. He didn't want sympathy, but the idea of keeping his face covered with the paper towel and running back to the truck ran though his mind in an almost comical fashion. No, he wasn't going to crack. Instead, he reached back down into his waning soul and recollected the rage that had led him back to this building. He waited for it to piece itself together again and then he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"Somebody set this up, Gary."

"And we will find them. We have the whole crew on surveillance video from the street side cameras. We _will_ find them."

Don nodded and tossed his paper towels into the garbage on top of his blood stained shirt.

"Yeah, I heard Megan say there was an officer hit. How is he?"

Walker raised his eyebrows. Don's attempt to maintain a standard case attitude bothered him more than hearing the staunch federal agent lose his lunch like a rookie at his first homicide. But he nodded and answered.

"He was DOA."

Don stood still over the garbage can, his eyes fixed on the shirt he had thrown away. After a moment, he lifted his head.

"And that bastard from the elevator. How did he get that chiv through the metal detectors?"

Walker expelled a deep breath and harrumphed.

"It was made of molded plastic, Eppes. He got it past security. The other guards saw him just outside of Holding talking to Henry Matachini. New guy, clean record. He was logged as his visitor. We don't know why yet, but Henry gave it to the those prisoners."

"Henry, huh?"

Don felt his anger growing stronger.

"Let me talk to him."

Walker shook his head.

"He's dead, Eppes. They used him as a hostage, overpowered the guard….. once they got a gun, they stuck the chiv in his neck. The guy bled out in five minutes."

"Damn."

Don turned almost as gray as his clean t-shirt, but quickly recovered and headed for the door.

Lt. Walker stepped forward and blocked Don's exit.

"What are you doing here, Eppes? Is it Charlie…..is he?"

Don's eyes glazed over at the mention of his brother's name.

"I don't know. I….…..I had to leave."

Walker shook his head perceptively and dropped his line of questioning. He could tell from the look in Don's eyes, that he had found a way to focus on something other than his grief. And he wasn't going to stand in his way.

"What do you need?"

"I need to talk to Marcus."

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Marcus propped his feet up on the conference room table and leaned as far back into the chair as he could without tipping it over. The LAPD officer was glaring at him and that was pretty much the reaction he had been going for. Despite his relaxed posture, Marcus felt like he was in the middle of a bad dream. The guy from witness services had shown him some video of the elevator before his brother had gone upstairs. He had recognized the guy right away. He didn't know his name. But he knew who he was and he wanted nothing to do with this any more. He told the agent he didn't recognize anyone. The man hadn't seemed convinced, but had left, giving the officers instructions to take them both home if the paramedics decided Frankie didn't need to see a doctor at the hospital. He turned his eyes to his brother. His face was still and somber and that bothered Marcus immensely. By the time he had realized the danger that Frankie had been in, it had all been over. A cop had taken him to a private office where an EMT had been looking his younger brother over. He wasn't injured. Not physically. But now the kid had his head down on the table and was staring blankly at the wall, only blinking occasionally. The paramedic had said he was going to be fine, it was only shock from what he had seen. But somehow Marcus wasn't so sure. Frankie wasn't fine.

This was the second time this kid had witnessed something like this. He has just watched that lady lawyer take a bullet to the head. She was nice to him. She was nice to both of them.

And then there was Charlie. Mathman extraordinaire. Mr. Eppes.

The kid talked about him constantly and Marcus had even found himself a little jealous of Frankie's new-found hero.

Now his brother had just had to endure sitting and watching his new role model bleeding to death all over the courtroom floor. How was he going to be fine? He'd already seen enough violence to last a lifetime and he was only twelve years old.

Marcus found himself harboring a revulsion for life. For this city and for its occupants. He hadn't felt it this strongly since they had seen Jose and his sisters shot to death in their living room. Watching the FBI guy die in the elevator had been no picnic for him. Violence is always shocking if you are not expecting it, but he'd seen people get shot before. He had watched his cousin bleed to death because the ambulance driver was afraid to enter his neighborhood without a police escort. He had been a year younger than Frankie was now. His cousin had been nine years old. The injustice of the shooting hurt as badly as the bullet that had passed through his own arm. It had been his first. Crossfire between two rival gangs. And when he had healed, he wanted nothing more than to join one of them.

Meeting Charlie on the metro had been the beginning of a realization for him. This guy….he was so damn smart. And yet so naive. It seemed like that guy knew everything, but he didn't have the knowledge to be as scared as he should have been. Oh, the guy had been scared, Marcus could tell that. But he'd been scared too. That night was supposed to be his graduation party. Not from high school. He'd dropped out over year before. But Roberto had sent him out with a mission.

He was supposed to pick somebody. Anybody. And shoot them.

And he had picked that spaced out, wild haired brainiac who really never did have any idea how close he'd come to pulling the trigger that night. He still wasn't sure why he hadn't. There was just something about that guy………and about killing someone in front of his brother. But Frankie knew what Marcus was supposed to do and he had tagged along. Charlie had been right. Frankie had always wanted to be a part of everything his older brother did, no matter how tasteless or horrific. And he was gonna do it. He was gonna do it anyway. And then here came Charlie. This guy…...he wasn't nearly scared enough and because of that, he had told Marcus the truth. And an adult had never done that before. Not his mother, not the doctor who had treated his last gun shot wound and certainly not Roberto. They just patched him up and sent him back out to get shot again….and to shoot someone himself. It was just part of growing up here and he had always accepted that.

Until he met Charlie. Damn him.

Why'd that guy have to be right? If Jose hadn't been killed and Charlie hadn't convinced him that it was his duty to tell everyone what he had seen them do, there was no telling where Marcus would be now...where Frankie would be now. Maybe they would be one of those statistics that the mathman was always talking about. The ones he had used to convince Marcus that there was more to life. More to life than gangs and guns.

He shook his head and unsuccessfully attempted to swallow the indifference that had been his world for as long as he could remember. They needed to know and he knew he should tell them. The guy from the elevator. It would just be too big of a risk. His testimony against the group of murders today was inconsequential in comparison. Maybe Charlie would have been able to get it out of him. Maybe he could have convinced him. But they didn't have that option. The only adult he had ever respected wasn't going to be around to talk him into anything. And it make Marcus feel sick. He almost felt remorse…...…for having ever looked at the guy on the Red Line Metro train.

Maybe this was all his fault.

But he _had _tried to tell him. He had tried to explain to Charlie that there really was only one way out of a gang. Now he wondered how someone could have managed to use numbers to convince him that he had to try. For Frankie. He was supposed to try for Frankie.

He eyed the two cops that were standing by the door and curled his lip at them.

"What are we waiting for? I thought you guys were gonna to take us home?"

The uniformed officer looked impatiently at the young man.

"That _was _the plan. They asked us to wait a minute."

Marcus let out a huff.

"For what?"

"For me."

The chair he was leaning back in almost slipped out from under him and he quickly dropped both feet back on the floor.

"Agent Eppes."

Frankie's head lifted from the table.

"Charlie?"

It was the first word Frankie had spoken since they had brought him down from the courtroom, and speaking it seemed to bring his younger brother out of the trance he had been walking around in for the past hour and half. When the FBI agent remained stone faced and didn't answer, Frankie's eyes quickly filled up with tears. The older cop who had entered the room after Agent Eppes answered for him.

"They don't know anything yet. But we'll let you know as soon as they do, okay?"

He turned to look at Marcus, and addressed the uniformed officer at the door.

"Sergeant, would you see to it that Frankie gets home? We need to spend a few minutes alone with this young man."

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**Chapter Eleven: The Basis of Optimism is Fear**

_Authors Notes: Thanks for reading! I'd love it if you'd leave a comment and let me know you were here._


	12. The Basis of Optimism is Fear

**Chapter Eleven: The Basis of Optimism is Fear**

"_Larry? Something……something bad has happened."_

His first thought had been Megan. Why else would it be David calling him and not her? They weren't exactly joined at the hip, but they did enjoy each others company immensely and he had always been confident that if any harm were to befall her, someone would contact him.

"_Charlie's been shot."_

Charles Edward Eppes. By far the greatest mind of his generation. The most exceptional student to ever walk into his office and now the most brilliant professor CalSci could ever hope to employ. The finest mathematician this physicist had ever had the privilege of working with, and most importantly of all…..a dear friend.

And someone had shot him.

Larry made the short drive from the CalSci campus to the UCLA Medical Center in a shock induced daze. He found Alan Eppes sitting alone in the central waiting area, perched tensely on the edge of a stiff plastic chair. David had not given him any explicit details on the phone and from the way Alan's shoulders were trembling, Larry was afraid to ask. He never had to.

"His heart stopped beating, Larry. They've got him back, but it's not looking very promising."

Larry collapsed into the chair next to his old acquaintance.

"Oh, Alan. Oh my Lord. How did this happen?"

"Somebody tried to escape during that trial. Robin and Charlie got in the way. That's really all I know. Don couldn't…."

Alan's voice cracked.

"Robin didn't make it."

Larry clamped his left hand tightly over his mouth.

Charlie's misadventure earlier in the year had left him with a lingering sense of danger and he wasn't the only one who had developed a mistrust of this city and the hazards that surrounded it for even the most common man. Larry knew his apprehensions had been nothing compared to what Alan must have gone through after Charlie's experiences. He had been both pleased and a little surprised when his young friend had chosen to go to battle with those fears and he had conquered them on his own.

"_Even if I include my current risk factors as well as taking previous events into consideration, statistically I have a better chance of being crushed by a grand piano than to end up with a gun pointed in my direction again any time soon. That doesn't mean I'm not afraid it won't happen again. And I am keeping my eyes open for people moving pianos. But life goes on and I won't let fear paralyze me."_

Larry found his voice, and it was quavering with empathy for the man next to him.

"Oh, Alan. Oh, Alan, I'm so sorry. Is Don….?"

"He left. He…..…he just left. I don't…….what if? I can't…."

Alan stopped himself and sobbing, buried his face in his hands.

Larry, unable to find words to comfort his friend, stood and walked to the windows that offered a view of the blacktop parking lot. He shivered as cool air blew from the vent above the door and began to dry his shirt, still wet from the rain. Charlie was not his son. Not the way he was Alan's. Neither was he his brother, as he was Don's. But he was Charlie. And Larry loved him. And his heart was breaking.

Unsuccessfully trying to fight off tears, Larry returned to the row of chairs and sat down next to Alan.

Words wouldn't do much good right now anyway.

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"I already seen this."

Marcus glanced at the video screen in the front of the room.

"I told your boy…I don't know none of these guys."

Don's expression remained hard and unyielding.

"Come on, Marcus. Snyder said you balked. You know you did."

The young man turned away from the screen and crossed his arms in defiance.

"Well….what the hell does he know?"

Maintaining his calm, collected, interrogator demeanor was becoming a challenge. Don tried to bite back his frustration, but it was beginning to seep through.

"The same thing I do, man. You're lying through your ass. Just tell me who he is."

"I don't know."

Don jumped to his feet and took two threatening steps toward the teenager.

"Damn it, Marcus. Don't you think you owe Charlie that much?"

"Don't try to guilt trip me, Agent Eppes!"

Marcus had never been intimidated by the strong arm tactics of law enforcement, never-the-less the tone in the agent's voice had left him rattled. But he was still determined that this was not his battle and he couldn't be a part of this. He shook his head in disagreement.

"No. Because I was the one taking a risk here. I don't owe him nothin'!"

"BULLSHIT!"

Don backed the young man into the wall next to the screen.

"You owe him your life you little punk. Because if he hadn't asked me not to kill you, I would have broken your neck the day he told me you pointed a gun at him."

"Eppes."

Lt. Walker hadn't said a word since they had entered the room and both Don and Marcus had almost forgotten he was there.

Don heeded the warning and stepped away. He walked back to the table he had been sitting on.

"Just tell me who the asshole is, Marcus. That guy is responsible for this."

He pointed at the screen.

"That guy. Not you, not me and certainly not Charlie. My brother….."

Don had to stop and swallow the bile he felt rising in his throat. He wanted to get through to this kid, and if that meant spilling his guts to him, then that was what he would do.

"I sat there and watched his heart stop beating, Marcus. His heart stopped. And so did mine. I can still hear the tone from that damn machine and I want _you _to understand what I am after here."

The young man continued to glare at him, but Don could see something in his eyes change.

"It's this guy, man."

He pointed at the screen again.

"This one. Right here. I saw his tattoo."

He watched as Marcus bit his lip.

"I already know what he is, Marcus. I just need to know who. Just a name. That's all I want."

Marcus watched Agent Eppes' face. Whatever it was that made Charlie so sincere, so real…...this guy, his brother, he had it too.

Damn them both.

He sighed deeply before he spoke.

"I don't know his name."

Don nodded, getting to his feet again and heading over to the chair where Marcus had just sat down.

"Then tell me where to find him."

The kid looked terrified, but he kept his voice low and calm.

"They'll kill me."

"So will I."

Don deadpanned the line and Lt. Walker moved to physically restrain him.

"DON!"

Putting both his hands in the air and turning quickly away from the anxious teenager, Don spoke through his teeth.

"He killed her, Marcus."

He turned to look the kid in the eye.

"Do you understand _that_?"

Lt. Walker's cell phone buzzed, vibrating its plastic case on his belt.

He answered it hesitantly, keeping his eyes on Don.

"Walker."

"Yeah, he's here."

"I'll be right out."

He looked at Don and raised his eyebrows and Don backed up against the table to answer him. The police lieutenant stepped from the room. After a brief moments silence, Don continued talking, taking a seat on the table top.

"They shot my brother. _My _little brother."

Don turned his eyes back to Marcus.

"I know you understand that."

Marcus had to look away. He was unable to maintain eye contact with this man………this federal agent. Someone who he couldn't possibly have less in common with had hit the only nerve Marcus had really ever had. And he understood exactly what the agent was asking for. It had nothing to do with his job. They were on level grounds here, in this room. He stared at Don as he continued to talk in a low quite voice.

"It could have been Frankie, Marcus. What if they'd shot him? What if it _had _been Frankie? Shot. Dying. Bleeding to death. And you knew who was responsible….."

"I'd kill 'em."

Marcus had lifted his eyes to look directly at Don.

Those three words. A thought that Don had yet to verbalize. He really hadn't realized until that moment that was exactly what he intended to do. He wasn't acting as a federal agent. He was a man who had just had his life shattered. A brother who wanted someone to pay for what had happened.

He cocked his head at Marcus and the boy stood up.

"I told you, I don't know his name. I don't know who he is. But I know who he works for. And I do know where to find _him_."

Don nodded intently.

"Tell me."

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Megan stood in the center of the courthouse lobby in almost the exact place she had been standing when the first bullet had shattered the glass door.

"Looks like you were right about that crowd, huh Red."

She turned as Sgt. Hicks strode across the lobby in her direction. "Women's intuition, I guess?"

Disgusted by the casual demeanor and good-natured tone, Megan snapped back at him.

"It's Special Agent Reeves. And it's called seven years of hands on experience as a behavioral analyst. And it is not my fault that your mother never loved you, so don't pretend that it is."

The young police sergeant flashed her an insolent sneer and opened his mouth to retaliate, but then thought better of it as David and Colby entered the lobby through the empty door frame.

David walked past her and headed for the hallway.

"Walker said he was here. He's coming out to meet us."

Megan didn't spare Sgt. Hicks a second glace as she turned to follow David down the hall.

"Excuse me, _Agent _Reeves."

She turned back to Sgt. Hicks and glared at him questioningly.

When he spoke his voice had taken on a more benevolent quality.

"I heard about your agents upstairs. I lost a man out here today, too."

She nodded to acknowledge the statement and considered apologizing for her outburst, but his moment of tact didn't last long.

"And my mother hated my sorry ass. She thought I was a inconsiderate clod."

Megan kept her mouth shut, but shrugged her shoulders. She forced an awkward smile and nodded in agreement, then turned toward the hall where Colby was waiting for her.

"What was that about?"

"Just an ass trying to apologize for being an ass. They can't be something they're not."

"Right."

Lieutenant Walker met them in the hallway.

"How is he?"

David shook his head emotively.

"It's not looking so good. He's still in surgery. How's Don?"

"He's holding himself together pretty well, considering."

"Where is he?"

"In the office….with Marcus."

Megan glared at him in disbelief. She started down the hall and Walker had to jump start to catch up with her.

"Hey now…come on. These gangs, they keep up with the latest news on their rivals. And Don seems to think this kid knows something that could be helpful."

"What does he think he's going to do?"

"His job?"

"Then you have more faith than I do, Walker."

"He needs to be here right now, Reeves."

"He doesn't know what he needs and neither do you."

"Oh, and you do?"

Megan opened the door and walked into the large security office. Marcus sat alone in the front of the room.

And Don was gone.

Authors Notes: Chapter Thirteen will take us back to UCLA and Charlie. But first……………..

**Chapter Twelve: You Think You Know Somebody**


	13. You Think You Know Somebody

**Chapter Twelve: You Think You Know Somebody.**

Don stared at the yellow tape that crisscrossed the open doors to the courtroom. He was unsure as to why he had come up here. He really had intended to head back to the truck and drive like hell for the east side. The bastard who had made this thing happen, the one who was responsible for this was out there. And now, thanks to Marcus, Don knew where to look. He knew where to find him. And instead he was standing here in front of this room. The room where she had died. The room where Charlie…… No, he couldn't even bring himself to think that one. Don felt like he was being pulled by an unseen force as he ducked under the tape and entered the empty room. It had been well over three hours now since the incident began and this room was already a processed crime scene. He had to hand it to the FBI's CSI team. They were efficient. The coroner had come and gone and taken the bodies of the deceased with him. The jacket David had used to cover Robin's body was lying in a heap next to two large pools of blood. Their blood. The movement of the bodies and the efforts to stabilize Charlie before they had moved him had left bloody footprints all over the scene. And Don followed the trail with his eyes from one location to the next around the room. It was everywhere.

There was just so much blood.

The sound of shuffling feet tore his attention from the stained carpeting.

"They sent you, huh? I was betting on the psychologist."

David ducked under the yellow tape and stopped just inside the doorway. "No. She's too busy ripping Walker a new asshole for letting you talk to that kid. I'm afraid we're both AWOL right now."

He glanced up at the cameras.

"But they're bound to look at that wall of monitors eventually."

Silence filled the room as David searched for the words he needed to say. Don didn't let him get that far.

"You don't have to tell me that I need to pull myself together or that Robin wouldn't want me to go outside the law just to get this guy. I've been telling myself that all morning, David."

The younger agent nodded sympathetically.

"Don. When you where shot…..

He paused for a moment, cleared his throat and then continued.

"We wanted those bastards. We wanted them bad. They took off with Charlie and we knew…….man, we just knew what they'd do. We were ready to turn this city inside out to find him….to find the guys responsible for it."

He walked past Don and stood next to the witness stand.

"When Colby found out where that house was……he would have hit it…alone, no back-up, if it had meant saving Charlie's life. Or yours. We all would have."

Don turned his back to him, still David continued.

"I'm just saying they've made this personal for all of us, Don. And I know you want justice….."

Don turned quickly to face him, his eyes flashing. And David could see the rage building in his furrowed brow.

"Justice? Screw justice Justice died when she did, David!. I don't give a rat's ass about justice. I want **vengeance**. That's all I want. That is all I can focus on…….all I can _think _about. Text book **retaliation**."

David rubbed his hand over the top of his head.

"We want these guys too, Don. Every cop in this city, every agent in the bureau. They hit us all today."

Don nodded and took a step toward his friend.

"That's right, damn it! And I want to hit them back. Harder than they hit us. I want to retaliate with a force disproportionate to anything they could be capable of."

He stopped speaking suddenly and his eyes fixed on the large crimson stain that covered the carpet on the central walkway.

When he spoke again, Don's voice was smaller somehow……...

"But how, David? How do I do that? Nothing I can do to them………there's nothing I can do that will ever compare to this."

He gestured toward the blood on the floor.

"Look at what they took from me."

David had to bite back his own emotions when he walked up next to Don. They stood and started at the place where David had found Charlie, slowly bleeding to death. The place where Robin had lost her life.

"Don, we all want them to pay for this. But there is a right way to do things."

"I tried that………...I followed protocol. I followed the rule book. Just like I told Colby I would. We did _everything _right and….still. I should never have waited. The rules failed, David. And I did too."

He turned to face the younger man who had been a part of his team for nearly three years. By now he qualified as family.

"I want them dead, David. I want them all dead."

Don's voice was shaking with emotion and David could see that it pained him to verbalize the uncharacteristic hatred he was feeling. He put his hand on the older man's shoulder.

"This has gone way beyond personal for you, Don. And I feel that, man. I do. But I don't want to see you make a mistake that could get you killed. We've already started an investigation. Marcus was talking to Megan when I came up here and Colby was already setting up surveillance on the location the kid gave you. We're working on it. We don't want to sweep it until we get a handle on the place."

When there was no response, David continued his appeal.

"Let us do this, Don. Give us a chance to do this right."

Don felt a chill run through him as if his blood had turned to ice. David was right, but the idea of sitting helpless, waiting………..

"I'm not sure that I can. I have to do something."

"You did, Don. You convinced Marcus to do the right thing, no matter how scared he is. Now you have to convince yourself."

David took a deep breath before he culminated his argument.

"Don, I know that the man who loved Robin wants them dead. And I know that the brother who watched Charlie flatline wants them to suffer. And I'm not going to try to stop you. But we both know you're better than that. And right now, Don. Right now, you need to be there for the guy who is afraid he's losing both of his sons."

He waited until Don raised his head and met his eyes before he continued.

"You don't have to deal with this alone, Don. And neither should he."

Don watched as the younger agent, his friend, turned and walked from the room. David's words had hit him like a glass of cold water to the face. He'd left his father alone. Charlie was in surgery fighting for his life……..and he was here. What was he doing here? Don felt the relentless tendrils of guilt wrap around his already depleted soul and squeeze. Alan had endured so much this past year…and now this.

Don rounded up the rage, pain and sorrow that threatened to overcome his current state of rationality and shoved it as deep into the closet of his heart as he possibly could. There would be a time to face those demons. But not right now.

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When David opened the door, Megan was on the phone and Colby was gone. Lt. Walker stood behind Marcus, where he sat staring at the floor.

Megan put her hand over the phone's receiver.

"I've sent Colby upstairs to try for a couple of warrants. We're going to need some phone taps too. We're posting teams for surveillance around the clock. If he shows up, we'll know about it."

She went back to her conversation on the phone, approving agent assignments and details. Listening to report summaries that had been left for the SAC. Normally, that would have been Don.

Normally.

David sat down across from Marcus, silently acknowledging Lt. Walker.

"Hey, Marcus. I know you're freaked out, man. But the Lieutenant here, he's got a cop on your brother. We'll get you both someplace safe before we cut this thing loose."

Marcus straightened up in the chair in an attempt to make himself as tall as possible. And to look less frightened than he felt.

"Those guys. The ones upstairs today. The ones who killed Jose. They were just small potatoes, man. Nothing. This guy. He gets his orders from the guys who pull the strings. Everybody knows him in the hood, you know. East Side, West Side it don't matter. He's MS13, but we all know who he is."

He turned around to look at Lt. Walker and continued.

"And we all stay out of his way. Even his own gang. We call him Trip. I think he's third generation. But I don't know his real name. I told Agent Eppes that."

Walker put his hand on the kids shoulder.

"Come on. I'll take you home."

As Marcus stood to leave, he turned back to David.

"Our gangs, the little groups…the cliques….….we've always been rivals. They shoot us, we shoot them and once we bury our dead we do it again. And again. It's been going on forever and taking a few of us off the street isn't going to make it stop. This guy and the people he works for………they're bigger than that. They're bigger than us. You can't stop them."

David stood and followed them to the door.

"I think we can, Marcus. We're sure as hell gonna try."

Closing the door, he turned back to Megan.

"David?"

She snapped her cell phone shut.

"We ran some of the pictures from today through NCIC using facial recognition software and we got a few hits. ATF has at least a dozen of these guys on their list."

David raised his eyebrows and nodded, but before he could verbalize a response another voice spoke from the doorway.

"What about the guy from the elevator."

"Don."

Megan shifted her eyes to David and when he gave her a slight nod, she turned to her boss and cautiously continued.

"His name is Miguel Escalón. DHS has been watching him for a while. But up until today, they thought he had taken refuge in South America. According to their information he's been recruiting members and starting gangs in some of the smaller cities. They've been connected to drug and illegal arms trafficking and the guys at homeland security believe his organization is a viable threat."

Don made his way across the room and looked at the video picture of the suspect. He could feel his heart rate increasing and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"We aren't going to have to spin it real hard to make this an act of terrorism."

David stood and walked around to where Don and Megan were standing in front of the control panel.

"That should make the warrants for the others easier to obtain."

Megan nodded.

"He's on the watch list. Homeland Security wants him so we've got probable cause to bring him in no matter what. And whoever is with him."

A security tech had captured still pictures from today's security videos and had them in a single folder on the main computer. Don began flipping through them, taking a close look at each face. Faces that he wanted to smash. Again he steadied his breathing.

"What are our chances of getting a general warrant that encompasses the whole gang?"

Leaning against the counter top, Megan rubbed her hands together.

"If the gang is a threat to homeland security, then I think our chances are pretty good."

"Let's get that surveillance set up and keep them covered. We need to be sure before we move on this. We don't want this guy to cross the border again, or we won't be able to touch him."

She nodded.

"Already done."

Don managed a bleak smile.

"Good. David, if you can get a DHS agent down here…..make sure we have all the information……and vice versa. See what they can do to make this move fast. And I mean fast."

David headed for door.

"I'm on it."

Turning to Megan, Don gave her a weak smile.

"Megan….if you have a minute….I could use a ride. I really have somewhere else I need to be right now."

David tossed the keys to the SUV across the room, and Megan caught them with one hand.

"All you had to do was ask."

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_Authors Notes: Everybody deals with tragedy in a different way. I think Megan, looking at it from a woman's perspective would be more concerned about Don's emotional state. I also believe that Walker would be a good enough judge of character to know that Don needed some time to come to his senses and the best place to do that would be a controlled environment. And just as David does, Walker believes that when faced with the choice, Don would do the right thing. Even in the face of such an incident, he is far to solid of a man to lose it entirely without consciously choosing to do so and I think that deep down they all believed that. _

_(I tried to find a way to include that in the chapter somehow, but it just didn't work…and yet I was compulsively led to explain my reasoning.) But it's not over yet and Don still has choices to make._

**Love your comments, please continue to leave them!**

_And now, back to Charlie….._

**Chapter Thirteen: The Other Side of Death's Door**


	14. The Other Side of Death’s Door

**Chapter Thirteen: The Other Side of Death's Door**

When Don and Megan stepped into the trauma center's waiting room, Alan was nowhere to be seen. Megan started across the room and it took Don a minute to realize she was heading for Larry, who was sitting alone by the window. The physics professor was lost in his own thoughts and when Megan grabbed his shoulder he nearly fell out of the chair.

"Oh my word. Megan. You startled me."

When he spotted Don standing behind her, he quickly stood.

"Don. They just took your father upstairs. They're moving Charles from recovery to the ICU."

Larry scarcely had time to finish his sentence before Don was in the hall and heading for the elevator. Megan reached over and took his hand.

"Come on. Let's get some coffee."

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Alan was standing by the nurses' station speaking to a man in a crisp white lab coat. When the man shook his hand and walked away, Alan turned and leaned heavily against the counter for support. Don felt a sharp pang of guilt for allowing himself to be overcome with his fury and controlled by his emotions. Alan should never have had to be alone for this……..to hear whatever it was the doctor had just told him.

Don approached his father quietly. He didn't know if he should speak. Megan had explained to him everything the trauma surgeon had told his father. It had been almost unbearable to hear. To imagine Charlie as anything other than the genius he had always been. Once again, Don felt the anger he was working so hard to contain make a break for the surface. He had to control himself. He had to be here now. For his father. For Charlie.

When Alan turned his head and spotted Don standing in the hallway, he felt his breath catch in his throat. When their eyes met, Don looked away. Unable to find the words that he needed to say, Alan wrapped his arms around his oldest son, pulling him close. After a few moments Don returned the embrace.

Both men remained silent.

Words would only get in the way, as they so often had done.

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**.……………………………...**

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_Lights._

_Faces._

_Now darkness._

_Voices._

_Noises._

_Where was he?_

_What had happened?_

_No answers._

_Just a heavy tingling numbness._

_It covered everything._

"Charlie."

_A familiar voice._

_His own name._

_He tried to speak. _

_To respond. _

_But something was in the way._

_He wanted to fight whatever was holding his voice hostage._

_But he couldn't even find the strength to open his own eyes._

"How is he?"

_**Don?**_

"He's alive. We won't know anything else until he wakes up."

_**Dad?**_

"Megan said…the doctor thought he might not….."

_**Might not what?**_

"I can't think that way, Donnie. I won't."

_**Might not what? What way?**_

"I'm not……I don't want to…..Dad….I just…….I watched him die. I can't……I'm not sure I can do this."

_**I'm here, Don. I'm still here.**_

"I'm not sure I can either, son."

_He knew his voice was somewhere beyond whatever was making it so hard for him to swallow. So hard for him to breathe._

_And just so hard to stay awake. _

1

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1

Don had known it was going to be difficult. But he never imagined anything like this. He had been sitting here staring at what was supposed to be his brother for just over an hour. Right now he looked more like a cyborg. The tubes. The wires. The steady beep of the heart monitor and the constant inhale/exhale rhythm of the ventilator.

"**_He's on life support?"_**

"**_Well……….just a ventilator. To help him breathe until we can determine if he will be able to do it again on his own."_**

"**_He stopped breathing?"_**

"**_Respiratory distress isn't uncommon with severe hypovolemic shock."_**

If it hadn't been for the mop of dark curly hair sticking out of the top of everything else, he might never have believed it was Charlie.

He was wrapped almost head to toe in warming blankets. The shiny silver lining of the blankets only added to the mechanical appearance of Charlie's body.

"**_Hypothermia is a major issue right now. We have to continue to infuse him as rapidly as possible. We're warming the fluids, but his core body temperature isn't coming back up. And right now he isn't capable of regulating it."_**

The nurse kept coming in and each time Don had a new question. He knew she thought that he should leave. They didn't allow lengthy visits in the ICU. She had explained that. And Don had ignored it. So far they still hadn't sent in anyone with the balls to argue with him. After all, he had a gun.

"**_We have his blood pressure back up. That's a really good sign. And his kidneys appear to be functioning normally. He's stable now, but the next twenty four hours will be critical. I can't give you any guarantees, Agent Eppes. His blood oxygen level was so low….for so long…….."_**

Looking around the room, Don was amazed at how clean everything was.

And how white. White walls. White floors. Everything was clean and white. The intensive care unit itself had no windows to the outside and the lights had all been dimmed for the night. The hallway was dark and Don could see lightening illuminate the passage through the open curtains from the windows down the hall.

"You really should see this."

It took him a minute to realize he had spoken…out loud. To Charlie.

After a moments pause, he decided to continue. Maybe it would help.

It couldn't hurt…..and it might drown out the unspoken thoughts that were rolling around in his own mind.

"I sent Dad home. More like I had Larry and Megan drag him home….oh, and Larry called Amita. He thought she'd want to know. From what he said I gather she was pretty upset. You should have seen him. He was afraid you'd be angry with him….the way you and she left things when she took that job and…..…..."

He had started to ramble and frantically searched his mind for something else to say as he listened to the steady hum of the ventilator.

"I had to promise Dad I'd call if you so much as twitched a muscle. But he needs to get some rest. I don't imagine he'll be leaving for a while once he gets back here."

Don stood and stepped up to the bedside, standing over his brother and carefully examining his still face.

"God, Charlie. You can't just give up. You've never been a quitter. It's just not in your nature to give up that easily."

He reached out and brushed a wayward curl off Charlie's forehead.

"You listen to me. I'm not giving you a choice here, Buddy. Wake your ass up. Open up your eyes and look at me."

He waited for minute. When there was no response, Don pulled the chair up behind him and sat back down, staying close to the edge of the bed.

"I can't do this without you, you know."

He said it before he had even completed the thought and hearing the words come out of his own mouth had a disconcerting effect on his heart rate. He felt his unruly emotions rising to the surface, but he continued to talk to his unconscious brother.

"I can't get through this…….not alone. Not without both of you. Come on, Charlie."

"Agent Eppes?"

Don reacted as if the quiet, soft voice had been a gunshot. He bolted to his feet and turned to see a nurse standing in the doorway.

"Sir, I'm sorry. We have a few things we need to do in here, if you don't mind waiting outside?"

"I do mind."

He turned his back to her and sat back down in the chair next to Charlie's bed.

"Ok, let me try this. We're changing shifts in about ten minutes. If you come back then, they'll never know you were here and you can start scaring the pants off of the midnight crew."

"I…."

She didn't let him finish.

"We'll call you right away if anything changes. You really should go home."

Don shook his head and spoke firmly.

"I can't do that."

She tried to sound sympathetic and authoritative at the same time.

"The couches in the lounge are also very comfortable, Agent Eppes. You should at least try to get some rest."

This one was determined. Very determined. And if she was intimidated, she didn't let it show. Giving in, Don nodded and pulled himself to his feet again. Casting one more glance at Charlie, he silently obeyed.

/-----------------------------------/

Leaning back onto the vinyl couch in the small lounge, Don closed his eyes. But sleep seemed to be an impossible dream.

Nothing seemed important right now.

And then everything seemed important.

He didn't need to go home. If he went home and climbed into that bed, the bed he had shared with her, he would never get out of it again.

If he went home, he would get the bottle of vodka out of the freezer and drink the whole thing.

If he went home, he wouldn't be able to keep the tears at bay. And once he allowed himself to cry, Don was afraid he would never stop.

He felt like the whole world was suddenly shifting and he was in terrible danger of falling off.

Robin was gone and Charlie might never be the same.

Don opened his eyes again and glanced out of the window in the lounge. It was raining again. Don could see the fat drops as they hit the window and drew lines down the pane. Lighting flashed and a low lingering peal of thunder rolled across the sky.

_Robin was dead._

How could anything else possibly matter?

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Authors Notes: As always; thank you so, so much for your comments!

**Chapter Fourteen: Out of the Heart of Darkness**


	15. Out of the Heart of Darkness

**Chapter Fourteen: Out of the Heart of Darkness**

_Robin. Her dark eyes locked onto his. He knew what was coming next, but this time when she closed her eyes he kept his open. The shot being fired was the most horrific sound he had every heard and as the bullet passed from the back of her head, he watched as the blood and tissue spattered across the bench. He felt a spray of warm fluid hit him in the face. The coppery smell of death was overwhelming. He fought to hold his head up, but he was losing the battle. He was in agony. Pain seemed to fill his entire being and when the man turned the gun on him, he welcomed the feel of cold steel on his forehead. Shifting his eyes, he looked up at the man above him, the man determined to kill him. _

Instead of the cold emotionless face of a killer, Charlie found himself looking at a young man in dark blue nurses' scrubs. The man was adjusting something next to the bed and never even looked back at him before he turned and exited his line of sight. He tried to speak, but the effort made him feel like he needed to throw up. Fighting through the haze and a tremendous sense of disorientation, Charlie looked around the room. He was unable to turn his head as far as he wanted to. It was as if it were being held in place by an unseen hand. He raised his arm to rub his face, but lifting his hand to his head took a monumental effort. The sight of the tube that was taped to the side of his wrist left Charlie wracking his brain, trying to remember what that was for. Had it always been there?

An all-encompassing sensation of discomfort kept radiating over his chest and there seemed to be a steady noise that accompanied this strange phenomenon. His eyes took in the machine next to him that seemed to be the source of the strange drone. Why was he hooked up to a machine?

This question was soon answered for him, when somewhere outside his room, a door was slammed and the sudden noise triggered a startling recollection. His dream. Robin. The memories surged over him and despite his efforts to control it; Charlie felt a sob rising in his chest. It had not been a dream, it was a nightmare.

Trying to calm himself down, Charlie took a deep breath….or tried to. He managed to catch the ventilator and almost choked on his own effort to consciously breathe. A mounting wave of panic washed over him and Charlie suddenly felt like he was suffocating. He was still lingering in the nightmare, but there was no waking up this time.

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Don's eyes flew open and in the semi-darkness he reached for his gun.

"Hey now. Take it easy."

A familiar voice pulled him the rest of the way out of his fitful attempt at sleep.

"Colby? Wha…..did something happen?"

The younger man shook his head and lowered himself onto the end of the couch opposite Don.

"No, no. I, um. I just wanted to see how he was doing. It's a little early yet and I didn't want to risk calling anybody."

"What time is it?"

"About four."

"AM?"

"Yeah, 'fraid so."

Don sat up on the edge of the couch and rubbed his face vigorously with his hands. His short, mercilessly dreamless sleep had done little to refresh his mind and now he had a ruthless crick in his neck.

Twisting his head from side to side in an attempt to pop the vertebra in his spine, Don turned and took in Colby's damp apparel and then glanced out the window at the steady rain that was still falling.

"What are you doing up at four am?"

Colby looked a little sheepish.

"Just got off the stakeout. We're covering those guys around the clock until we can get a positive ID on everybody who was there today. We've tailed about a half a dozen of the fellas that were ID'ed from the street shooting and the lobby. And we've been granted warrants for two of those new locations. But the primary target, this Escalón guy, hasn't shown up yet….so we're holding off."

He watched as Don swallowed hard and rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"We've got it covered, Don. He'll show, and then we'll take 'em."

Don pulled himself to his feet and stretched the kinks out of his back.

The nurse hadn't been completely honest about that couch.

"Coffee?"

Colby nodded quickly in agreement.

"That might be a good idea."

Heading down the stark beige hallway toward the elevator, they passed the glass panels that housed the Intensive Care Unit. A dark headed young man sitting at the Nurses' Station and nodded at them as they walked by.

"I see you got Alan to go home."

Colby reached the elevator first and hit the down arrow on the wall.

Don crossed his arms and leaned against the opposite wall, his eyes on the elevator numbers.

"Yeah, Larry and Megan took him home. Larry's going to stay….bring him back after he gets some sleep. I guess I should say 'tries' to get some sleep. I almost expected him to have come back by now."

"How is he handling ….….."

Colby stopped speaking as a small group of people in white coats rounded the corner and ran down the hall past them. When they flung open the doors to the ICU, he felt his heart sink.

Don stood stock still in the hallway looking towards the unit. His face had turned a ghastly shade of white and Colby was almost afraid he was going to pass out. Then, without warning, he took off at a dead run back towards the ICU.

The alarm on the ventilator was the first thing Don had a conscious perception of, followed by the increased pace of the beeping tones from the heart monitor. Charlie's bed was surrounded by hospital personnel in white coats and the crash cart that someone had pulled up next to the bed nearly stopped his own heart.

Not again.

The young man in blue scrubs turned and quickly exited the room, almost knocking Don over.

One of the doctors was speaking in a firm, commanding tone.

"Charlie, you have to slow down your breathing. You're on a ventilator. Just slow down and let the ventilator do the work."

Another voice rose above the din that surrounded Charlie's bed.

"We've lost the IV. Get his arms."

It took Don a minute to realize what was happening when he saw his brother's feet kicking off the warming blankets that had been covering him.

The doctor continued to speak, trying to get Charlie to stop thrashing.

"Charlie, you need to slow it down. The more you struggle the harder it's going to be to get the tube out."

When the young man in the blue scrubs rushed back into the room, holding a tray with a syringe, he again bumped into Don's shoulder. He was propelled forward slightly and was now able to see Charlie's face. His eyes were wide open and he was unquestionably terrified. Having woke up alone, on a breathing machine, Charlie had lashed out at the tubes and wires that were attached to his body. He had pulled his IV from his arm and the central line that had been working to replace his depleted blood supply was his next target. A young nurse was struggling with his arms as Charlie grappled for the tube that he perceived as a threat. She appeared to be unprepared for the strength a genuine panic attack could give someone, even in a weakened state. The dark headed nurse prepared the syringe he had brought in. It appeared they were going to have to sedate Charlie since they could not control him.

Don quickly stepped forward, pushing the young woman at the head of the bed roughly aside.

"Charlie. Hey. Calm down, Buddy. Calm down. You gotta stop breathing so fast."

Don grabbed his brother's arms and held his wrists together with one hand. The struggle continued as Charlie squeezed his eyes tightly shut.  
"CHARLIE."

He took his free hand and grabbed his brother's chin.

"Charlie. They can't take the tube out until you slow it down. Now calm down. Look at me. Look at me, Charlie."

Charlie stopped turning his head from side to side and Don felt his arms begin to relax.

"Good. Let me see those eyes."

Charlie opened his eyes and looked up at Don. For a minute Don found his own arms grow weak.

"Hey, Buddy. There you are."

Several minutes passed in silence as they stared at each other. The steady hum of the machine next to the bed ceased and the doctor approached Charlie from the other side, looking at Don.

"We've shut the machine down and he's breathing fine on his own……..but I need to take this tube out. Can you hang on to him?"

Don nodded and the doctor turned to Charlie.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Charlie, this is gonna hurt. But I need to you to try to cough while I pull."

Charlie gagged as the doctor pulled the tube out of his throat, followed by several spasmodic coughs.

"You surprised us there, chap. We weren't expecting to see those brown eyes for a couple of days at least."

Charlie tried to maintain eye contact, but his lids began to droop and his head fell back on the pillow. He was, again, fighting hard to stay awake.

The doctor patted him on the knee.

"You get some rest and I'll see you again in the morning."

The doctor walked around the bed to stand next to Don.

"His throat may be sore from the tube, but it will go away in a day or two. He may also be a little hoarse, and it may hurt to talk for while, but that won't last long. It's not unusual for someone to be combative under these circumstances. He should have been in restraints. But like I said, he surprised us. He's likely to sleep for a while now. I'll get the nurse to switch him over to a self administered morphine drip when his next dose is due."

He gave Don an encouraging smile.

"This is a good sign. I'll be honest with you. We weren't expecting it."

He headed out the door where he paused to consult with his staff and Don saw Colby standing nearby in the hallway, listening in as discreetly as possible. The nurse who Don had pushed out of the way cautiously approached the head of the bed.

"Sir, I'm going to need to get that IV back in, if you could step outside for a…….."

"No way."

If looks could kill, the young woman in question would have dropped dead on the spot. Don released his brother's arms, so she could have access to the left one, which was still bleeding from where he had torn the IV from his wrist. He took Charlie's other hand firmly in his own.

"I'm not moving from this spot."

She opened her mouth to object, but thought better of it.

Colby stepped outside the doorway that lead into the ICU's hallway and flipped his cell phone open, dialing Megan's number. The fact that the sun had not yet risen was of little consequence.

"Megan? It's me."

"No, I'm at the hospital with Don. You need to get Alan over here."

"NO….no. Not that. Sorry. He...um...He just woke up."

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Authors Notes: As you can see - no homage to Conrad intended.

In the darkest of dark places, the smallest of lights can appear as bright as a thousand candles. Light...in the heart of absolute darkness. Hope where there was none.

I was feeling philosophical...nothing more.

And never, never pull your own IV out. That is bad on so many levels.

Please continue to leave your comments!

**Chapter Fifteen: And How is This Fair? **


	16. And How is This Fair?

**Chapter Fifteen: And How is This Fair? **

When Charlie opened his eyes a striking woman with flaming red hair, all pulled up into a tight bun, was standing next to the bed. When she noticed he was awake, her serious face broke into a smile.

"Well, hi there. My name is Allie. I'll be taking care of you tonight."

She turned away from the bed and checked the machine that constantly monitored his blood pressure, flipping through the readings from the last shift.

"Looking good so far. How are you feeling? I hear you had quite a day."

Unsure what she meant by that statement, Charlie stared at the woman as she continued to check his vitals. His surroundings had changed dramatically since the last time he had opened his eyes and an overwhelming sense of disorientation set his heart pounding.

"'er am I?"

His voice was hoarse and he could barely get the words out. They sounded weak and slurred, even in his own ears.

"Mr. Eppes. You've been moved to a private room."

Charlie tried to sit up and quickly realize that was a mistake. He had been almost unaware of the dull ache in his side and the attempt to set up without support sent it spiraling into a sharp shooting pain that took his breathe away.

Allie lunged forward and grabbed his arm.

"Hang on there. If you want to sit up, I can lift the head of the bed for you a little bit. But you need to remain still for a while longer, Mr. Eppes."

She lowered him back down flat and began to use the hydraulic lift on the bed to raise it into a semi-sitting position.

Charlie tried to relax his body, but as his eyes took in the room and the fog that clouded his mind began to slowly clear, he realized something was missing. Someone was missing. Don had been there, in the other room…the white room.

_Don. Oh God_. As if reliving it again for the first time, Charlie could see Robin's face. The terror in her eyes. The knowledge that she was about to die. And he had just sat there. She had died defending him and he was unable to do anything to save her. Completely helpless. Even knowing that he, himself, had been dying didn't alleviate the guilt that tore through him.

But Don had been there…..in the courtroom. Don had held his hand. He could remember that part. Then things just kind of faded out and there was nothing else until he woke up in that white room. Today, Yesterday, Last week?

The drug induced haze from the pain medication was slowly wearing off and Charlie had furrowed his brow trying to pull his scattered thoughts into some kind of order.

The nurse, Allie, watched the distress brewing behind his eyes.

"Mr. Eppes, if you're in pain, you'll need to push this button."

He shook his head frantically as she tried to hand him the device.

"Where………?"

She answered his question before he could ask it.

"Your father and brother are just outside the door, they've been here all day. Right now they're talking to the doctor. Your sixteen hour nap had them a little concerned. They'll be right back."

Don was coming back. Dad was here.

And he was alive.

_But Robin was dead._

How could Don ever forgive him for that?

Charlie leaned back into the pillows and allowed the tears that had been accumulating in his eyes to roll down his cheeks.

How could he ever forgive himself for that?

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Doctor Cyrus Harper crossed his arms and summoned up his best bedside manner. After Charlie's initial outburst of combative behavior, the young man had yet to regain consciousness and it was making his family nervous. It hadn't quite been two full days since he had been brought to the UCLA trauma center and in all honestly this was usually when he got to do the part of the job he hated. Telling a family that their child, their husband, wife or what have you, would never fully recover. This was supposed to be the easy part….when things went better than expected. But this guy's older brother, a federal agent of all things, didn't seem ready to buy it. He almost seemed to be looking for a reason to remain despondent.

"I'm as amazed as you are, Mr. Eppes. We are pleasantly surprised by these test results. But I'm not going to patronize you. As mass blood transfusions go; there is always the chance of infection. And just like an organ transplant his body could choose to reject the cells or treat them as invaders. Almost like an allergic reaction. But it's been almost thirty six hours and we've yet to see any severe outward symptoms of the usual complications. This doesn't mean we are totally out of the woods yet and there is still the initial injury to consider. Charlie has a very, very long road to recovery ahead of him. But he's already several steps ahead of what we had anticipated and his outlook is very good."

"Why hasn't he woke up again?"

Doctor Harper turned to look directly at Don and began with what he always used as the common response for when he honestly had no physical explanation. Blame psychology.

"Agent Eppes, I understand your brother went through a very traumatic event. Post Traumatic Stress is to be expected. He will need help to get through this. I can refer you to someone, if you don't….."

The patient's father interrupted him first before the other man could respond to his usual spiel.

"Yes, please. That would be a good idea."

At that moment, Allie, his favorite night nurse walked from Charlie's room. She was an attractive red headed woman and in that white nurses' uniform………… He rubbed the gold band on the ring finger of his left hand and sighed. She turned and gave him a grand smile.

"Doctor Harper, he's awake again. Still pretty out of it, and a little upset. But talking."

Alan headed for the door, followed closely by Dr. Harper, who paused for a moment to watch the red headed nurse walk down the hall. For reasons he was afraid to think about, Don hesitated.

He stood just outside the door and listened to his father's worried tones and the doctor's imposing tenor. And suddenly, Don was absolutely terrified of the thoughts that he found running through his mind. Charlie was really awake this time….shock and drugs no longer in complete control of him. And Don didn't want to hear what he knew Charlie would want to say to him.

_"m sorry...couldn't help….her." _

The recollection of Charlie's words as he lay dying sent a chill down his spine. Charlie had believed he was responsible for the way Robin had died……..that somehow, he could have done something…..that he should have at least tried to do something.

And as much as it agonized him to realize it, Don had wondered much the same thing. And the mere thought of holding Charlie at fault for the loss that weighed on his heart made him feel sick to his stomach.

But never-the-less the thought was there, right next his own guilt.

Right next to his own culpability.

Biting his lip, Don turned away from the door to his brother's room and headed for the stairs. He could not allow himself to blame his brother for this. The guy who had done it, the one who had pulled the trigger…..he was on a slab in the morgue. He hadn't deserved to get off that easily.

As Don took the stairs two at a time, he found himself wishing that the bastard had survived……..that his team had refrained from filling him full of lead.

So that he could kill him.

So that he could take this feeling that was consuming his soul and take it out on someone who deserved it.

But the man was dead and despite the things he kept telling himself, Don still felt the need to hold someone responsible.

Someone he could focus on, someone he could hate.

He didn't want that guy to be Charlie.

Charlie, who had done nothing wrong.

Charlie, who had almost lost his own life.

When he reached the top level, Don pushed open the door that lead onto the roof and walked out into the night. The air was hot………..humid…….and a sharp stinging rain continued to fall, pelting him in the face. The small platform outside the door was set up with a small table and a few standard folding chairs. From the mound of cigarette butts around the platform, Don easily deduced that this was where hospital personnel came to unwind.

Thanks to the excessive rainfall of the past two days the roof was predictably vacant. Puddles had accumulated in the seats of the chairs and Don tilted one to empty the water before he sat down. In moments his shirt and pants were soaked through. But Don remained seated, staring out over the city of Los Angeles.

The guy he could blame was out there……….somewhere. He still had to find that guy. Be it vengeance or justice, whatever happened when he got there….that guy was going to be sorry for what he had facilitated.

Maybe then he could look at his brother without wondering why it had been Robin that had taken the final bullet.

Don cursed himself as the idea manifested itself in his mind. And he felt the full weight of the guilt his thoughts had created. Charlie didn't deserve that from him. He already blamed himself and knowing Charlie, he would torment himself with that guilt without any help from him.

It had been just over thirty six hours since the longest day of his life had begun and to Don it seemed that no matter how many times the sun would rise and set, this day would never come to an end. And it was never going to stop raining.

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Alan sat next to Charlie's bed and watched his youngest son sleep…..if you wanted to call it sleep. In Alan's opinion, he was passed out cold. Charlie had remained silent, succumbing to sleep, shortly after Dr. Harper had convinced him to use the Morphine button. He had kept his eyes on the door until he could no longer hold them open. Alan rose from the chair and walked quietly across the room to the window, looking out into the darkness. He wanted so badly to be angry with Don for pulling a Houdini.

Charlie never asked for him and he never would. It was obvious from his behavior that he didn't feel he deserved to.

It had been almost two days and Don had yet to even mention Robin's name. The hurt and guilt in Charlie's eyes were almost more than Alan could bare and he knew that was Don's reason for leaving. The nurse had said that Charlie was fully conscious, albeit a little out of it from the drugs he was on. But rather than deal with the self imposed guilt displayed plainly on his younger brothers face, Don had simply fled.

Alan lowered himself into the chair by the window. Don had never run from anything. It was in his nature to face things head on. To grab the bull by the horns and never let go. But a loss like this..……this kind of devastation……it was enough to drive any man over the edge.

It wasn't so long ago, that Alan had been in a similar position. Just because they knew it was coming hasn't made it any easier. Having time to say goodbye had only given him longer to dwell on how he was going to face life without her. How they were going to face life without her.

But Don had been their rock. Don had been the force that held them together. And now that force was falling apart.

And Alan felt completely helpless to stop it.

………………………………...

Alan had almost dozed off when a voice from the open doorway sent his heart racing.

"Is he asleep?"

When Alan nodded, Don walked quietly into the room, stopping at the foot of the bed to stare at his brother's sleeping form.

Taking in his drenched apparel, Alan didn't need to ask where Don had been. But that didn't stop him from wanting to hear the explanation.

"He was looking for you, you know. He kept his eyes open as long as he could."

"I just need some time, Dad."

The despair in Don's voice was heart wrenching, but he wanted his son to understand that he was not alone.

"Donnie, he needs….."

Don cut him off sharply.

"I'm not ready, okay? Don't you understand that?"

Alan stood and approached the bed.

"You know I do. And when you _are _ready….you know he'll listen. Just don't wait to long. He blames himself, Donnie. And……"

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT!"

Don's raised voice echoed in the small room and Alan was taken aback by the ferocity in his tone. Swallowing hard, Alan stayed where he was watching his oldest son's shoulders as they began to shake.

Don kept his back to his father. But Alan could hear the mournful despair in his voice when he finally spoke again.

"Is it ever going to stop hurting?"

Stepping up next to Don, Alan put his arm around his shoulders.

"No. But it will fade. In time…….it will fade."

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Sitting in her overfilled office, Olivia Rawlings listened to the rain through the open window, as it drowned out the usual sounds of the city. Somewhere in the distance a single gun shot resounded through the night, bringing her head up. The community center wasn't in the best part of town, but that couldn't be helped. This was where it was needed. She had decided long ago, that made it worth the risk. Growing up here had made this more than just a job for her. It was a mission. One she was determined to follow to completion. Or until it killed her. It wasn't hard to determine which would come first.

It was well past the time when she normally would have locked up for the night but a visit from a group of the kids had left her shaken. Professor Eppes had become so important to those boys. It was hard enough for them when they lost one of their own. How was she supposed to tell them that one of the most violent gangs in LA was responsible for taking him away from them too?

She didn't allow them to wear their gang colors at the community center, but she knew what crews these older boys were pledged to. And she knew which crews the younger boys aspired to be a part of. Retaliation was a common word on these streets. It always had been. But she had heard it more than a few times today as the older boys played basketball. The 13th was the enemy. And they had waged war on the police…..on the government….and on anybody else who got in the way.

And according to the boys who had just left, the 18th wanted a piece of the action. They had been looking for a reason.

Well, they certainly had one now.

In eight simple weeks, Charlie Eppes had become a friend to more than a few of younger boys at the center. And those boys had older brothers too. They weren't FBI agents, quite the opposite in fact. But they sure as hell knew how to use a gun and wouldn't hesitate to use it on a member of the Mara 13. The reasoning behind it didn't matter. Violence wasn't the way……she knew that and had spend the last three years trying to convince the kids in this community of that. But somewhere deep inside her, Olivia hoped they would have done the same for her.

With a disconcerting sigh, she reached for her phone. She had told David long ago that in order to be effective with these kids they had to be able to trust her. She had even reamed him out once for asking her to compromise that position of trust.

But this was different. These boys….they were just children. Their brothers members of the 18th. They knew about Frankie and his older brother Marcus. They though he was brave. For doing the right thing. For telling the truth. These boys had heard details of a series of assaults being planned on the Mara 13th and they wanted to do the right thing. Perhaps not as boldly as Marcus and Frankie…but never-the-less, she had gotten through to them. And so had Charlie.

She looked at the list of locations she had jotted down. This was going to be a blood bath if someone didn't stop it. Maybe those boys knew that and that was why they had chosen to rat out their own brothers. The Mara 13 was dangerous, even to the well seasoned members of the 18th street gang. If the FBI was already onto these guys, they could wind up in the middle of an all out gang war.

She dialed David's number from memory and waited as the phone rang.

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A/N: Getting back to the action soon. Hope I've still got everybody.

**Chapter Sixteen: Where Do We Go From Here?**


	17. Where Do We Go From Here?

****

Chapter Sixteen: Where Do We Go From Here?

Don sat next to the bed and stared in awe at his little brother. Once again, Charlie had managed to beat the odds. It was almost as if his ability to calculate the exact figures somehow gave him a better chance. Turning his eyes to Alan, Don found himself almost overwhelmed with a deep concern for his father. He was still sitting by the window, his head resting on the back of the chair and he was snoring softly. If he thought for one minute Alan would cooperate, he would wake him and send him home. But there was little chance of that.

Don had almost considered going home himself. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave again. What if something happened and he was gone? The doctor said they weren't out of the woods yet. And he needed to be here when Charlie woke up again. No matter how painful it was for him. As Don rehearsed what he wanted to say to Charlie……what he _needed _to say, he again found himself talking out loud.

He couldn't help but allow himself a small chuckle.

"I know it's stupid. But it's just easier to talk to you when I know you aren't listening. That's half the reason why I always wait until you're in the garage working. I can get it out of my system with the full knowledge that you didn't hear a word I said."

Watching the red pulsating light on the heart monitor, Don was again struck with a terrible sense of loss. Robin was still dead. Nothing could change that. But as badly as he wanted to get lost in his grief, Alan was right.

"God, Charlie. I'm so sorry….for all of this."

"not your fault."

Charlie's voice was so small that he had hardly heard him, but the three words almost knocked Don from his chair.

"Hey, Buddy. You're awake?"

Trying to keep his voice steady, he took a deep breath.

"I should….I shoulda known you were faking."

Charlie turned his head toward him and opened one eye just enough for Don to see the dark brown iris.

"not faking….eyes too heavy…..hard to talk."

Pulling his chair closer to the bed Don maneuvered himself so he could stay in Charlie's line of sight.

"Yeah, they've got you on the good stuff, kid."

"still hurts to swallow."

He offered up a weak smile and nodded reassuringly.

"That'll go away."

Charlie was fighting to stay alert and it took him a moment to answer.

"heard him say that."

"What else did you hear?"

"you….Dad."

Don shook his head and tried to keep his emotions at bay.

"It's not your fault, Charlie. You know that, right? You know I don't blame you……."

There was an extended silence as Charlie squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again and blinked a tear ran down his cheek.

"blame myself."

"You shouldn't……….."

Don leaned forward in the chair as he spoke, but Charlie interrupted him.

"can't bring her back. I didn't even try to stop…..."

"HEY, NO."

The elevated volume of his voice made Charlie jump and his Dad's snoring suddenly ceased. The desire to safeguard his brother from his self inflicted guilt reflected so plainly in Don's tone that it surprised even him. Glancing at his father, who was now awake and staring at him warily, Don continued in a softer tone.

"He would have killed you too, Buddy. I know that."

Charlie's eyes closed and several seconds passed in silence before he spoke again.

"would have been better….."

Don fought off the desire to shake Charlie's shoulders. He wanted to shout and tell him that blame _would _be assigned. That the one who really was responsible would be found and dealt with. That someone would pay for doing this to him. For putting him through this…..for putting _them _through this. Instead Don found Charlie's limp hand and took it firmly in his own.

"Don't say that, Charlie. Don't ever say that."

"'m sorry, Donnie."

"Yeah. I'm sorry too, Buddy."

Several minutes passed and Charlie's breathing slowed down and took on a steady rhythmic rate. Pulling his brother's hand close to his heart, Don laid his head on the edge of the bed and fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. There was a way through this. As long as they had each other, he could find a way through this.

A shuffle at the doorway brought Don's head up and around. A familiar figure stood just outside the doorway.

"David?"

Walking through the door, David nodded to Alan where he sat by the window.

"How is he?"

Don released Charlie's hand, laying it gently on the bed, and pulled himself to his feet, turning to face his colleague.

"The doctor seems to think he'll recover. But he's got a long road ahead of him."

Casting a glance at his father, who had remained silent, Don met his eyes.

"I guess we all do."

Realizing he had interrupted a family moment, David almost rethought the purpose of his visit.

"I'm sorry, Alan….Don. I know it's late. But I thought you'd want to know."

"Know what?"

Don watched as David looked from him to Charlie and then back again.

"David?"

"Don, I know I shouldn't…."

"What?"

"We got a tip from some of the kids in Charlie's group…down at the center."

Don nodded and David continued.

"The 18th street gang is planning a mass retaliation against the Mara 13. They are targeting at least three of the locations where we have men posted. We can't just let them start a gang war right in front of us. We're going to have to take them now……tonight. With or without Miguel Escalón."

"Do we have any leads on his location at all?"

"A few. But Marcus was right, Don. He told me this was bigger than a couple of street gangs. This guy Miguel…..we have evidence to suggest that he's the west coast front man for the Abrego cartel."

Don couldn't mask his shock at this news. The Abrego cartel was one of the major players in the black market. They specialized in running drugs and weapons across the border and according to their sources they had even begun to dabble in human trafficking. If the Mara 13 were the ones muleling for the Abrego this had just blown into the biggest take down of the century.

"Does the DEA know?"

"Yeah, they're on their way. They want in on this. And the Department for Homeland Security has just upped their threat level and have made taking down this gang a priority nation-wide. They're also bringing in Immigration. At least fifty percent of the 13th's member are illegals."

Don stood and walked over to where David was standing, his tone growing more urgent as he spoke.

"Charlie did a game theory analysis of the Abrego. About a year ago, I think."

David nodded resolutely.

"We've got it covered, Don. That's how we figured this out. Megan found the folder. He called it a theory of strategic interaction….."

"Yeah, and something about Nash?"

"The Nash Equilibrium…right. He told the DEA then that there was missing piece, that the equation was incomplete. That made it impossible to predict their next move."

"So, the gang was the missing variable?"

David nodded in silent reply.

"How many teams do we have?"

"Four of ours. We've got two INS teams on the way, at least a half a dozen ATF agents and the DEA is pulling out the works."

"Who's lead agent?"

David looked slightly embarrassed.

"Right now, I am."

"Okay."

Don bobbed his head in approval and David looked at him apprehensively.

"You know I can't let you go in on this one, Don."

"I wouldn't expect you too. But I am coming with you."

David handed him a black FBI windbreaker jacket that he had been holding under is arm.

"I figured you might."

"Son?"

Don turned to look at his father. Alan had pulled himself to his feet and was looking at him in disbelief.

"Dad. If Charlie wakes up again…."

"NO! Don. Just let your team handle this."

Don took a deep breath and held it for minute. When he released the air from his lungs, he walked across the room to stand next to his father.

"I need this, Dad. For Robin. For Charlie. For me. Okay?"

When Alan offered no reassurances Don turned his back to him and headed for the door.

Then Charlie's weak voice tore through the silence that had filled the room.

"Donnie?"

Stopping next to the bed, Don was unsure of what to say and afraid that Charlie would ask him not to go.

"Buddy….I'm sorry."

"s'okay….just come back…can't do this alone."

Through his state of drug induced delirium, Charlie was trying to tell him that he understood. And Don got the message loud and clear.

"You won't have to, okay? You won't have to."

Charlie lifted his arm weakly.

"promise?"

Don grasped his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I'll be back, Buddy. I promise."

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_Authors Notes: Thank you so much for the encouraging comments! I'm blown away! As we near the end of this journey inspiration is getting harder to come by. (and I'm in serious need of a decompression tale!)_

_HOWEVER - I read a spoiler for the first two episodes of season three and I'm totally psyched now! For those of you who aren't into spoilers…I don't want to **spoil** it. I will say it's a two parter._

_**BOOYA!**_

_Hey - I gotta get excited about something when the R/W stinks as bad as it has this week….I'll take anything._

****

Chapter Seventeen: Five Pounds of Pressure

(Turns out that's exactly the amount of pressure it takes to pull the trigger on a 9mm GLOCK handgun….just so you know what this title is in reference to!)


	18. Five Pounds of Pressure

_Greetings my Friends._

_I share with you a warning._

_The language becomes moderately obscene in this chapter. Although the foulest of the foul is not in English, if it were to be used to this degree in a movie…in English, it would likely receive an R rating._

_Translations will be provided in Authors Notes._

**Chapter Seventeen: Five Pounds of Pressure**

When Don followed David into the back of the large black van, all of the occupants suddenly fell silent.

"I'm just here to watch, folks. Agent Sinclair is the SEC tonight."

With a glance at David, everyone went back to their assigned tasks.

With his eyes on Don, Colby addressed the new agent in charge.

"They found Henry Matacinis' family at their home in Glendale… ...executed. Gangland style. They must have used his family to get him to cooperate……and get the knife into holding. Once things started moving, they killed them anyway."

"Sons of Bitches."

David grabbed the handle on the wall as the van started to move.

"Anything on Miguel Escalón?"

Colby shook his head.

"No. He's a ghost. I guess that's why they haven't gotten a lead on his involvement before now. As well known as he is, he keeps a low profile."

Another agent near the front of the van spoke up.

"They thought they had him at Vincent earlier today, but they couldn't get a positive ID."

"Ok, get Agent Eppes the photos from that. He saw the guy up close."

Glancing at Don, David took the assault rifle that Colby passed in his direction.

"We're going in from the rear. Megan's with LAPD. They have the front and she's waiting for our go. Any sign of the 18th?"

Colby raised his eyebrows.

"Not a one. Do we wait?"

David exhaled loudly before answering.

"No. Let's keep them out of this if we can. We've got the perimeter covered if they decided to interfere."

Don nodded at him, giving his silent approval. As strange as it felt not to be _that guy_, it was also strangely satisfying to see his team operating from this perspective. Standing on the outside looking in.

David opened the back of the van and jumped down to the wet pavement.

"Let's move out."

Each member of the assault team clapped Don on the back as they passed him to exit the van. Colby was the last one out and he stopped at the door and turned back to Don.

"You know Agent Evans, right? He's our tech tonight."

He indicated the only agent who had remained in the vehicle.

"Yeah, we've met."

"Okay…….."

Colby offered a smile before he stepped into the misty rain and closed the door, leaving Don in the van with Agent Evans.

Evans was a scrawny young man with light blond hair. His round frame glasses screamed 'techie', but the gun on his hip was a quick reminder of his true occupation. He put on his headphones and Don watched as he checked the helmet cams and radios. They were doing this thing by the book and getting on all on tape to boot.

Watching the video monitors on the rack in the van, Don felt his stomach flip. He'd never watched a full fledged assault from this side of things before and seeing everyone's perspective as they held their positions was nerve-wracking.

When David called the strike, Don felt his heart jump out of his chest. Knowing that this same scenario was going down at three other locations in Los Angeles at the exact same moment in time put an extra boost into the rush. It was all Don could do to keep his seat when one of the cameras picked up a young man who had stepped outside the house to light a cigarette. Colby tackled him to the ground before he had a chance to make a sound. When everybody hit the doors, Don could no longer stay seated. He hovered behind Agent Evans and watched the cameras, his reverence for his team growing by the second. Most of the house's occupants gave up without a struggle, hitting the ground the moment the agents entered the building. A few high spirited young men tried to run for it and were quickly apprehended by the officers that had remained outside at the perimeter.

Only one man was fool enough to fire a shot, which hit an agent in the vest. David squeezed off a single round and dropped him. It was all over in less than two minutes.

As the INS team that was assisting began to cuff the young men and lead them out of the house, Don was finally able to relax.

Agent Evans let out a deep exaggerated sigh.

"Don't let the glasses fool you, Agent Eppes. I'd love to be on that side of things for once."

Don couldn't help but grin at the younger agent as he opened the door to hop out of the van.

"I'm sure you'll get your chance. This is my first time to see things from this….……"

As he swung open the door, Don's eyes caught the figure of a man about twenty yards away. He had stopped in his tracks, and the light from a nearby street lamp reflected off his shaved head.

Even in the poor light, Don recognized the man. When their eyes met, he couldn't help but allow a grim smile to pass over his face. Without hesitation, Don jumped from the back of the van and hit the ground running.

………………………………

"Sinclair!"

The voice of Agent Evans in his headset caught David off guard.

"What!"

"Eppes just took off, man. Some dude came walking down the street, and he just took off."

"Awww shit….."

His exclamation got Megan's attention.

"Granger!"

Colby turned his head and they both looked to David.

"Don's after a runner."

In unison the three agents hit the door and headed toward the vehicle in the back of the alley. Evans stuck his head out of the back of the van and pointed down the alleyway.

"They went that way."

As David and Colby changed directions to join the pursuit, two gunshots rang out from somewhere down the street.

Agent Evans shook his head at Megan as she headed around the house for her car.

"But Eppes didn't put on his vest!"

………………………………...

"Escalón!"

Don called out after the young man running ahead of him.

"STOP! FBI!"

His warning was answered when the man brought his right arm up from in front of him, a large caliber handgun held tightly in his fist. He fired off two shots at Don without aiming as ran down the street. Don never slowed down, pulling his own weapon as he ran.

"FBI - DON'T MOVE!"

The man continued to run without turning back and rounded the corner ahead of him disappearing from sight.

With his GLOCK firmly in his fist, Don continued the pursuit rounding the corner and catching sight of his quarry heading into the next alley.

A thousand thoughts were running through his mind as he focused every ounce of energy he had into moving his feet.

He didn't want to shoot this guy as he was running away.

He wanted to wrap his hands around his throat and choke the life out of him.

He wanted to hit him in the face, over and over, until there was nothing left but a mass of fleshy pulp.

And somewhere deep down, he also wanted the satisfaction of making that skinhead son of a bitch piss his pants when he realized that he was about to die. The way Robin had died.

His building rage only increased his speed and as Don rounded the next corner he was unprepared when a two by four swung around to meet him. The board caught him across his left cheekbone and he staggered backwards, dropping his gun. A second impact to the left side of his face made stars explode in front of his eyes and Don lost his footing, slamming into the ground. ………………………………

"Dispatch, this is FBI unit one in pursuit of armed suspect. Requesting LAPD assistance. Heading south down Harrison. I've got three agents in foot pursuit."

In her headset, Megan could hear David's voice.

"Granger - Head up that alley. I'll cover the next street up. Reeves?"

"Right with you."

Megan hit the gas, passing David and cutting across the alleyway to cover the next street over.

………………………………

Don shook his head in an attempt to clear it and looked up into the face of the man he had chosen to focus all of his anger on. The man he was holding accountable for the devastation and loss that had turned his world upside down, was standing over him with the barrel of a gun pointed directly at his head.

Don could feel warm liquid running down his cheek, but resisted the urge to reach up and wipe the blood away. His ears were ringing and white spots continued to dance in front of his eyes. Forcing himself to focus on the face behind the gun, Don blinked rapidly to clear his vision and took in the cold dark eyes above him. Even in his daze from the staggering blows, the pain and fear only seemed to fuel his hatred for this man.

"I thought I told you to stop."

With a incredulous laugh, the man's face broke into a grin.  
"You stupid Culero! I gotta tell you FBI…..you got the goddamndest nerve. What do we have to do to make it clear to you Serotes? You have no jurisdiction over the Mara Salvatrucha."

With his last two words, he raised the short two by four he now held in his left hand and brought it down hard. Reacting as quickly as his fuddled brain would allow Don pulled his right arm up to protect his head. The board struck him near the elbow and a sharp pain shot up his arm and into his shoulder as the nerve took the brunt of the blow. Don's movement knocked Escalón off balance and the younger man staggered forward. Despite his injuries, Don reacted with an instinct born of years of training. Rolling onto his side, Don struck out with his left leg, catching the man's kneecap with the ball of his foot. As the knee bent sideways, a howl of pain, followed by a string of curses echoed through the alley. Seeing his gun a few feet away, Don realized he could never get to it before Escalón put a bullet in his head. So instead he turned and launched himself across the alley, just as the young man brought his gun up and pulled the trigger.

………………………………...

David rounded the corner, fully expecting to find a body lying in the alley….Don's or Miguel Escalón. Somehow David knew one of them wasn't going to be walking out of this neighborhood on their own. But the alley was empty, save for a few broken bottles and a dumpster filled with something foul. Another gunshot rang through the night…this one much closer. As David headed around the next corner, he almost ran directly into Colby.

"It came from the next block over."

"Yeah…."

He addressed Megan through his headset.

"We're two blocks up on Harwinton. We've got another shot fired."

Her solid voice answered.

"I crossed over to Gerard, I'm heading back your way."

As he and Colby headed up the street at a cautious sprint, he continued to speak into his headset.

"And Megan? Call an EMT. We may need 'em."

………………………………

The sound of the gunshot reverberated in his ears and Don could feel the heat from the passing bullet as he slammed into Miguel Escalón. The impact sent both men tumbling to the ground as they began to grapple for the weapon. Don got his right arm loose and even though it was still numb from being struck with the two by four, he pulled his arm back and shot his fist forward as hard as he could. He felt bones break as his fist connected with flesh. Miguel Escalón stopped his struggle and dropped to his knees, instinctively reaching for his shattered nose. He began to scream at Don in a language that sounded vaguely like Spanish.

The gun had fallen to the ground and Don reached down dispassionately and picked it up. Looking at the gun in his hand and then at the bleeding face in front of him, Don lifted the weapon and took aim.

………………………………

Megan pulled her car up onto the main stretch of road that connected the series of alleys and side streets and put it in park. There was no sign of Don or the man he had pursued. David and Colby were on the other main drag, so if they exited whatever alley they were in, someone would see them. Cautiously, she exited the car and drawing her weapon began slowly up the street, checking each alleyway as she passed.

………………………………

A hundred thousand words could never have verbalized what Don was feeling at that moment. He wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger and obliterate the despised visage at the end of that barrel. If there was any man who had been on that side of his gun that deserved to die more, he could not remember them.

At the same time another part of him wanted to see this man spend the rest of his life in a federal prison, bleeding out the ass and sharing a cell with a two hundred and fifty pounder named Dutch.

Killing him would be so easy. Don knew how simple it would be to claim self defense. The throbbing pain in his face and the blood running down his cheek and soaking his shirt front would easily clear him of any misconduct charges. It would be classified as a justifiable shooting.

But he would know the truth. And he would have to live with that.

Besides, death was the end. Short, Quick…and Easy. Far to easy.

This son of a bitch didn't deserve the luxury of death and Don had already made the conscious decision that he wasn't going to get it from him.

David was right. He was better than that.

Staggering slightly, Don lowered the gun. The man quickly scrambled to his knees, trying to stand and Don quickly brought the gun back up.

"DON'T. Don't even try it."

Escalón froze.

"Get down."

"JODE TE!"

Don didn't know what it meant, but from the look on the bastard's face, it wasn't anything good. He took two steps forward to train the gun directly at Escalón's head.

"I said, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!"

As the man lowered himself to the ground, Don backed up and retrieved his own gun from the pavement, holstering it.

"Put your hands behind your head."

Megan was moving so quickly, she actually passed the mouth of the alley before he saw them. Taking several steps back she stared at the scene before her.

A man was lying in the alley floor, bleeding profusely from the nose, his hands laced behind his head. He was cursing and swearing at the man standing over him. It took Megan a moment to truly acknowledge that that man was Don Eppes. There was blood streaming down the left side of his face, his right arm hanging limply by his side and the gun in his hand was pointed..…at the ground.

When Megan took a couple of steps into the alley, Don raised his eyes to look at her.

"If you've got this, I really need to sit down."

Without waiting for her to answer, Don staggered back against the wall and used it to slide his body to the ground. Suddenly feeling as if his own head weighed a metric ton, Don leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Colby's voice cut through the darkness.

"Don. Hey, pal. Stay with us, man."

He forced his eyes open. He was no longer sitting against the wall, but was still in the alley. Someone had laid him down on his back. Colby was kneeling next to him looking profoundly concerned and holding something up against the side of his face.

"Don. Try to keep your eyes open."

David's voice caught his attention.

"I think I found what he hit him with."

Don shifted his eyes to see David holding up the bloody two by four that his opponent had dropped during their struggle.

"You dumb shit."

It took Don a minute to realize Megan was talking to the man who sat cuffed in front of her.

"PUCHICA!"

He spat at her feet and she stepped backwards to avoid being hit with the spray.

"David, will you get him out of here? Don may have decided to let the courts have him, but if I have to keep looking at him, I'll kill him myself."

Don blinked trying to keep his eyes focused as David lifted the man up from the ground by his cuffed hands and lead him out of the alley toward the flashing lights that were approaching on the street.

"Damn, He really messed him up. He looks pretty out of it."

Megan's comment intrigued him, but Don couldn't find the gumption to investigate the severity of his injuries.

Colby's next comment laid his curiosity to rest.

"I think it may have broken his cheekbone. And I'd say he has a concussion."

To Don, it felt like his whole face was throbbing and his right arm was now so completely numb that if he had been told it had fallen off he could have believed it.

"You need to keep him awake, Colby. Don, keep your eyes open."

Before he could try to respond, Megan turned her attention to the street as an ambulance pulled up just outside the alleyway.

As Colby readjusted the light pressure to the laceration on Don's face, he continued to talk to him.

"You did good, Boss. You got him."

Don started to feel his grasp on consciousness waning and he allowed his eyes to close again.

"Stay awake. Come on, man. Open your eyes."

Despite Colby's pleas, Don kept his eyes closed. He could feel the light rain on his face and he blocked out the voice of his teammate, focusing instead on the sound of his own heart beat. The past two days had been nothing short of hell and he was just so damn tired.

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**Actual Authors Notes**: In Caliche or the Salvadorian Spanish language - here are today's translations…for those of you who want to know what great obscenities I've shared with you.

_Culero_-faggot

_Serotes _- F...'ers

_PUCHICA_- a term of disgust aimed at a woman. Similar in meaning to Puta which means whore, but can also mean F...'king whore.

_Jode te _- go f...k yourself

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**Chapter Eighteen: I've Got the Scars to Prove It**

**Trivial Notes from the Author**: In the realm of spoilers. I like www dot Numb3rs dot org……of course replacing the word dot with an actual dot because I can't write a complete web address here. It just won't let me.

More good news………NUMB3RS: The Complete Second Season on DVD October 10, 2006


	19. I’ve Got the Scars to Prove It

****

Chapter Eighteen: I've Got the Scars to Prove It

"You do realize I can't take much more of this?"

Don had been lying with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the emergency room from behind curtain three. He opened his eyes to find his father standing at the foot of the bed.

"Dad? How'd you………."

With an look of dour exasperation, Alan cut him off.

"You've been down here for three hours getting your face stitched up and you don't think to send somebody up to tell me?"

"Dad…"

"You're right here…in this hospital, where I'm already at, and you don't think I'd want to know that you're in the emergency room?"

"Dad…."

Alan's voice grew louder and louder as he continued his rant.

"Megan comes upstairs to see Charlie and after hooing and hawing for ten minutes finally says, oh by the way…Don's down in the emergency room with his face busted up. And you think I wouldn't want to know about that?"

Don cut in quickly before his father could go on.

"You've got enough to worry about with Charlie and I……."

"I Have Two Sons, Donnie."

He bit off his words one at a time and Don was taken aback by the conviction openly displayed on his father's face as he continued speaking.

"It Doesn't Matter. Never Do That Again."

Alan took a deep breath and concluded in a softer tone.

"Never 'not' tell me. I am the first phone call you make. I am the first phone call anyone makes."

It took Don a moment to find his voice, blown away by the furious love his father's anger had displayed.

"Okay. I'm…I'm sorry, Dad. I…I wasn't thinking."

Flattening the sheet at the foot of the bed, Alan leaned against the edge of the mattress and stared at the floor.

"When you left here tonight….you scared me, Donnie."

Carefully watching his father's profile through his swollen eyelid, Don nodded in agreement.

"I scared myself."

"I really thought if you found him that you would………"

"So did I."

As much as it pained him to confess this, Don found it was a great relief to admit, out loud, what he had intended to do.

Alan turned and put his hand on Don's knee.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Don found himself suddenly reminded of why he had moved back to Los Angeles in the first place. Together, they were strong. Together, they had survived up until now. And together, they would _all _get through this.

He reached out and took his father's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I will be, Dad. Eventually. I will be."

Speaking still sent pain radiating across the left side of his face; despite the pain killers they had given him before they sent him down for a CT scan, and Don couldn't hide a grimace from the discomfort.

Alan stood back up. No longer displaying anger, his face radiated with concern for his oldest son.

"How bad is it, Donnie?"

Don spoke through his teeth this time, trying not to move his jaw.

"It's okay, Dad. It's not as bad as it looks."

Looking skeptical, Alan leaned forward to take a closer look at the row of stitches across Don's cheek.

"If you could see it, you wouldn't say that."

Wondering if he should have asked for a mirror, Don watched his father's anxious expression.

"Ok then. Maybe it is as bad as it looks."

"It isn't."

The curtains parted and a regal looking Hispanic woman in a white lab coat entered.

"Good evening, Mr. Eppes. They told me you were here."

She had turned to Alan and extended her hand.

"I guess I should say good morning, now."

Alan gave her a genuine smile and shook her hand warmly.

"It's not morning till the sun comes up. Doctor…?"

"Gamble. Doctor Gamble."

Opening the chart in her hands she turned back to Don.

"I've just finished looking over the results of your CT scan and you'll be pleased to know that my initial diagnosis was confirmed and you are going to live."

She paused to give him a charming smile full of white teeth.

"You'll be living with a headache for a while, but nevertheless…….."

Reading over the notes that various nurses and techs had left on the chart, she continued explaining his prognosis.

"It looks like you do have a mild concussion. We'll have to follow up with your right arm after the swelling goes down to check for any lasting nerve damage, but nothing is broken and I'm confident that the numbness will fade as the inflammation dissipates. You do, however, have a hairline fracture across your left cheekbone. I hate to be right about that, but it's better than the possible alternatives. Unfortunately, there is not much we can do about that except give it time to heal."

She looked at Alan again.

"We were afraid there would be some fragmentation, but it looks like your son lucked out."

Don snorted in an attempt not to laugh at her optimism.

"You call eighteen stitches 'lucking out'?

Giving him an appraising look, she chuckled.

"Don't worry, Agent Eppes. Scars give you character."

"Oh, He's got plenty of that without any extra scars."

Alan's interjection was met with another laugh from Dr. Gamble.

"From the fan club in the lobby, I wouldn't doubt it."

She gestured toward the front doors.

"It looks like we're collecting law enforcement officers out there. I'm sure they'll be thrilled to hear you'll be back on the job in no time."

Giving them both a congenial smile, she continued with her evaluation.

"You may experience some dizziness or insomnia…..but that should fade after the first twenty four to forty eight hours. I'll write up something for you to help with the headache. But that shouldn't remain too severe."

She stopped and stared at Don for a moment before she continued.

"What you need to do, Agent Eppes, is go home and get some rest."

Alan scoffed loudly and she smiled.

"Yes, I expected that might be a problem."

Much to his father's surprise, Don shook his head slowly.

"No ma'am. No problem. I'm to tired to fight about it. I just need to stop upstairs for a minute before I go."

She nodded, having fully expecting this development.

"One of your agents briefed me on your family's situation when they brought you in, Agent Eppes. I've already got someone to take you up to your brother's room while we get your discharge papers in order."

She stepped outside the curtain and returned a few minutes later with a wheelchair and Special Agent Colby Granger.

"Our orderly is busy at the moment. Will he do?"

Colby grinned over her shoulder.

"I had to win two rounds of paper, rock, scissors to get this job."

Allowing himself a small smile, Don cut his eyes at his father.

"Dad?"

"Go ahead, Donnie. I'll get your paperwork taken care of."

Alan turned to Colby.

"Don't let him stay up there long. And try not to wake Charlie. I'll go ahead and pull the car around to the front exit."

Colby replied with a rigorous salute.

"Yes, Sir."

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When the door to his room opened and the light from the hallway passed over his face, Charlie pulled himself out of the state of semi-consciousness that he had been hovering in. The sound of a moving chair made him realize someone had entered the room, and he lifted his head slightly, searching for the culprit.

"Don? Dad?"

There was no reply and Charlie felt his breath catch in this throat.

"Who's 'ere?"

The light from the various machines that surrounded his bed gave off enough illumination that Charlie could make out a figure maneuvering around the chairs in the room.

For a moment, Charlie thought his heart might actually stop…..again. But the steady, although increased, rhythm on the beeping monitor lead him to believe he was no longer in danger of _that _killing him. He was more worried about the sinister figure he could see milling around the foot of his bed.

He was still woozy from his last dose of Morphine and for a moment Charlie was afraid he was hallucinating.

Or he hoped he was hallucinating, he wasn't really sure which posed the greater threat.

"Leave the light off."

A whispered voice cut through the darkness that filled the room and a shiver ran down Charlie's spine. He was suddenly reminded of a moment some time ago when he was in the darkness of his garage and another voice made a similar demand.

"Whadda you want?"

Trying not to sound like a doped up invalid was a challenge, but Charlie thought he had managed it. He felt around the bed trying to find the nurses' call button as he continued to speak.

"I don't know what you think you're doing…………."

"Hey. Chill, Dude."

Another voice, so there were at least two of them.

"It's okay. We just don't wanna turn on the light."

The third voice was familiar.

"Marcus?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Eppes. I know you're not supposed to have visitors except for family, but these guys wanted to talk to you and………."

The other two young men stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room and somewhere in the recesses of his mind, a memory was stirred. The metro. The earthquake. They had both been there too. One of them cut Marcus off mid sentence.

"We wanted to say something to ya, man. The feds….."

Interjecting on his behalf, it was Marcus' turn to interrupt.

"It's Mr. Eppes."

"What?"

His face barely visible in the dim light, the other young man's annoyance was evident. But Marcus maintained his position.

"You need to call him Mr. Eppes. Or Professor."

The other young man laughed loudly and poked Marcus in the shoulder.

"What? What happened to 'mathman', huh?"

"I told you George, if I brought you two up in here, you were gonna be respectful."

The first young man exhaled in exasperation and turned to Marcus shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay. Jeez, Marc."

Turning back to Charlie, he changed his tone.

"Um, Professor. We wanted to say something to you."

Turning back to Marcus, he got a nod of approval.

"I know you been helping my bro with school, right?"

Without waiting for an answer, he continued.

"When he found out what happened with you…..When they all found out what happened with you, we decided we'd take care of it. I'm his brother, right? So I was gonna…Take care of it, you know."

Charlie's mind was still reeling with the quirkiness of this situation and he barely registered the young man's words. Why would Marcus drag two gangsters into his hospital room and then tell them to be nice to him? He tried to clear his throat and pose a question.

"What do you……."

But the young man who was speaking didn't let him finish.

"I'm talking."

"Rico."

Marcus, his great defender, interjected again.

"Okay….DUDE."

He shot Marcus an ugly look. This young man was obviously not accustomed to being corrected under any circumstances…..but for some reason, God only knew why, he was taking it from Marcus.

"Okay."

After a moment, he continued.

"What I'm saying is this. See. Jay….that's my brother…..he was real proud of what he learned from you at the center. Real proud. When Ms. Rawlings said you was shot….he cried. He's thirteen years old for Christ's sake and it make him cry."

He turned to George as if passing the torch and he began talking where Rico had left off.

"So, like he said. We were gonna take care of it."

"Oh…okay."

Charlie stared at them in shock.

"You mean….you were going to……kill someone….because of what happened to me?"

Charlie wasn't sure he had heard them right and he was getting even more confused than he had been. Since he was dosing up on Morphine every time the machine reset itself, that wasn't hard to do and he had to concentrate hard on each word.

"I don't know what….."

"Yeah. That's right. So, we're there, right? And the feds show up and take the 13th's whole crew down before we can get organized."

He paused and stepped even closer to the bed.

"What we wanna ask you is…..why'd they do that?"

Charlie suddenly felt a shock wave of panic as he remembered the last time Marcus had brought someone to see him that just 'wanted to ask him a question'.

"I don't…..I don't know?"

Rico spoke up again.

"Did the feds know we were comin'?"

Charlie found himself actually shaking with fear. He couldn't allow himself to believe that Marcus had, once again, managed to put him in a situation like this.

"I…I don't know."

"Rico. You're freakin' him out."

At Marcus' statement, the young man backed away from the bed, his expression sheepish in the dim light.

"Sorry, man. I mean…Mr. Eppes. I didn't mean it that way."

George cleared his throat and continued Rico's attempt to explain.

"That's right. It's just we found what kind of shit's been going down in our neighborhood thanks to the 13. We ain't no angels, but we don't sell our sisters you know?"

Despite the fact that he really didn't know, Charlie nodded his head in agreement.

"So when we found out what happened to your brother, we just wanted to come in and say how sorry……."

"What?"

The young man's words cut through Charlie like a hot knife through butter as he tried to find the way to the top of the drug induced buzz that still clouded his mind.

"Something happened to Don?"

Marcus recognized the panic in Charlie's voice and he stepped up close to the bed.

"Hey. It's cool. We thought you knew. He's ok. Just got messed up a little."

Charlie's eyes were wide and frightened.

"Messed up?"

"Not bad. From what I heard."

"What you heard?"

Rico laughed and he slapped Marcus on the shoulder.

"I don't think you're helping Marc."

"Shut up, Rico."

"Get out."

Charlie's voice had gone from timid and scared to loud and forceful and it caught the group of young men by surprise.

"Get. Out."

Marcus offered a reassuring smile.

"It's all good, man. You know my friends, Rico and George."

Charlie shook his head as frantically has his doped up body would allow.

"I'm still remembering what happened the last time you brought somebody to see me, Marcus. I still haven't gotten the blood stains off of my driveway from where one of your 'friends' shot my brother."

Looking stunned at the accusation, Marcus crossed his arms.

"That's not fair, Mr. Eppes."

"Not fair?"

Charlie's eyes were flashing as he turned on Marcus.

"Not fair is watching someone you care about take a bullet. Not fair is being helpless to stop it. NOT FAIR is knowing that it was all _my _fault to begin with because _I _wanted to help _YOU_!"

A chilled silence filled the space that Charlie's words had left in the room.

Exhausted from his outburst, tears of anger streaming down his cheeks, Charlie fell back onto his pillow.

"You should probably leave now, Marcus."

Suddenly stuck with the staggering realization of his own foolishness, Marcus nodded his head at his two friends and they started for the door.

At the same time, the door swung open and a large man with light brown hair backed into the room, pulling a wheelchair in front of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Colby spotted the three young men moving toward the door. Letting go of Don's wheelchair he spun quickly around, his hand moving to his holstered weapon.

"Hey!"

"It's okay, Colby."

Charlie's voice was shaking and from that alone, Colby presumed that things were not 'okay'.

Leaving his hand hovering over his sidearm, Colby flipped on the overhead light with the other hand and turned to look at his boss' younger brother, keeping the three young men in his field of vision.

"What's going on here, Charlie?"

Don had turned himself around despite the limited use of his right arm and wheeled further into the room behind Colby. He looked from the tear streaked face of his thirty year old brother to the hurt and woeful expression on the face of a seventeen year old kid. The incredible need to protect and defend his brother was so strong, Don actually felt it like a sonic wave radiating over him.

"Charlie? Are you alright?"

Lifting his hand to wipe off his face, Charlie slowly nodded his head in affirmation. Don turned to the three teenagers who had invaded his brother's room.

"Marcus? What the hell are you doing here? What the hell are they doing in here?"

The young man looked monumentally embarrassed and a little bit scared of the wrath in Don's voice. He stared at the floor for a moment before he tried to answer.

"They wanted…..they just wanted to say thank you…that's all. For what you guys did tonight. For taking out the 13th. I thought it would be okay, I didn't realize……."

The two fellows who where with him looked ready to make a break for the door. It appeared that the hospital's security system and state of the art metal detectors had done their jobs and these boys had all come calling without their customary array of weapons. And Colby's badge and gun, displayed openly on his belt, were making them both appear very nervous.

Don shook his head in disbelief and turned his eyes to the young man with whom he had shared a heart to heart talk with less than forty eight hours ago.

"What the hell? Why would you do that, Marcus? Why would you bring them here? After everything that happened?"

Rico took a step forward, but backed off when Colby took a step to meet him. Turning back to Marcus, he tried to answer for him.

"He's our brother man. And we asked him to. He's still one of us."

But much to everyone's surprise, Marcus adamantly shook his head.

"No. Rico. No. I'm not. Don't you understand? After what happened with Jose…and Roberto. Didn't you hear anything I told you then?"

"What are you saying, man?"

Rico gave him an indicative look.

"We've pledged our allegiance to this gang, man. We all did. Together. We've sworn an oath."

With a deep sigh, Marcus plopped down into the chair that Alan had left by the window.

"What is it that we've sworn an oath to? I thought I knew. When we all stepped onto that subway last summer. I thought I knew. Now…I don't even know what exactly is it that we're claiming."

George looked at Marcus as if he had made the most absurd statement he had ever heard.

"Commonalities, man. The same allies. The same enemies."

Marcus didn't reply, but instead put his head in his hands.

Despite his anger at the young man for endangering Charlie, yet again, Don found himself feeling sorry for him as he watched him floundering…trying to stand up to his friends. Don looked at the two young men who had accompanied Marcus on this late night visit.

"Allies and Enemies, huh? Do you even know who your allies are? Who your enemies are?"

"We know who our enemies are."

Rico shifted his head at Marcus.

"And so does he."

The mental, physical and emotional torment of the past three days had reached a boiling point inside of Charlie and despite the narcotic fog that seemed to be ever present in his mind, he found himself thinking more clearly than he had since the first shot had been fired in that courtroom.

"No."

Charlie's voice was weedy and trembling, but his tone was determined.

"You're claiming allegiance to something and you don't even realize that your enemies are allegiant to exactly the same things. True enemies should have no common loyalties."

Rico, looking offended at the professors statement, interposed.

"We don't. We don't claim the same shit, man. They don't believe in what we believe in."

Charlie's voice grew steadier as he balked at the young man's declaration.

"Don't fool yourself. It's all the same. 13th or 18th. Crips or Bloods. You all do the same thing. You are all exactly the same. You kill each other. That is your common ground. Death. Violence and death and destroying people's lives. Violence is the common ground you all stand on."

Rico shifted his eyes to Marcus.

"What about honor, man? You made a promise."

Marcus stood and walked toward Charlie's bed, physically choosing to take sides.

"Honor? There's no honor is this, Rico. I don't know about you. But my dreams don't consist of talking to my brother from behind bars and I sure as shit don't want to spend the rest of my life having to ask permission to use the bathroom."

The room was silent for a moment and then Marcus continued.

"I can do more than this, man. I _want _to do more than _this_. And this guy. He showed me that I could. That I can. I really thought that if you guys met him again….maybe got to know him the way Frankie and I have. Hell, the way Jay has…then….I thought maybe then you'd understand."

Rico stood and indicated to his friend with a nod of his head that they were leaving.

"Whatever you do is cool with me, Marc. But don't expect anyone else to understand. They never will. And don't expect to come back."

Marcus swallowed hard and took a deep breath before answering.

"I won't. I won't need to."

When the two young men headed for the door, this time Colby stepped aside and allowed them to pass.

Marcus turned back to Charlie.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just wanted them to know. I wanted to try to show them why I was leaving…that's all. I thought I could make them understand."

With a half-smile, the young man walked towards the door.

"Marcus?"

The exit of Rico and his partner seemed to extinguish Charlie's adrenaline rush and his voice was again weak and thready.

"If you're serious….about leaving the gang? If you really meant what you said. Then try coming back later. When I'm….when I've had some time, okay? Try coming back then and we can talk about it."

A hopeful smile spread over Marcus' face.

"I will. Thank you."

As he headed out the door past Colby, he nodded at Don.

"Goodnight, Agent Eppes. I'm glad you're okay."

"We'll see you around, Marcus."

Once the young man was gone, Colby stepped up and closed the door behind him.

Don took a deep breath when Charlie turned his soulful brown eyes to his battered face.

"He said you got hurt? I thought you were….……"

Charlie exhaled loudly and let his head fall back on his pillows.

"God, they scared the crap out of me."

Charlie lifted his head back up and Don could see a new wave of tears springing up in his weary eyes.

"What happened to you? Don? Are you okay?"

With a sigh, Don leaned back into the wheelchair.

"It's not as bad as it looks, Buddy."

Charlie released a nervous laugh as he fought to maintain his composure.

"God, I hope not. 'sides, I'm not sure Dad could take much more of this."

Despite the pain it radiated across his jaw line, Don couldn't help but smile at his younger brother. It had been almost seventy two hours since the bullet from a thirty eight special had almost ended his life……since another bullet had changed the course of their dual reality.

And in customary Charlie fashion, he was worried about their father…and about him. Don watched Charlie's tired face. As seemed to be the norm, he was again having trouble keeping his eyes open as he waited for Don to tell him what had happened.

"It's okay now, Buddy. Just get some rest, okay? I'll be back in the morning and we can talk about it, then."

Charlie managed a dismal smile before his eyes closed. Don watched him for several minutes before he turned, looking over his shoulder at Colby.

The younger agent's face was screwed up in a bewildered, yet reverent expression and he was shaking his head.

"He's really something else."

"Yeah."

Don nodded and sighed as he turned his wheelchair toward the door.

"He really is."

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****

Chapter Nineteen: From Whence We Came


	20. From Whence We Came

**Chapter Nineteen: From Whence We Came**

"_To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: "_

As the graveside service began, Don was grateful that the sun was shining. It gave him a valid reason not to remove his sunglasses. Not that they were very effective in detouring attention from the row of stitches that graced his left cheekbone, but they did manage to conceal a good portion of the vivid bruise that surrounded his eye and covered most of the left side of his face.

"_A time to be born, and a time to die;  
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;" _

A sharp gust of wind caught him full in the face and Don felt child bumps rise across his arms and legs. The wind had continued to blow long after it had finally managed to push last week's storm up the coast. Now it was using the remainder of its strength to usher in the much cooler air of early November.

"_A time to kill, and a time to heal; _

_a time to break down, and a time to build up;"_

Another blast of winter air wind blew through the small group and Don was concerned by how pale and cold Charlie looked even under the bright sunlight. Trying to keep his mind off the words being spoken, he found himself rethinking his insistence that the doctor allow Charlie to attend the service. The nurse that Doctor Harper had insisted accompany them had also noticed the change in temperature and much to her credit she discreetly pulled the blanket further up over Charlie's shoulders.

"_A time to weep, and a time to laugh;  
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;"_

Sitting stone still in his wheelchair, Charlie barely acknowledged her actions and it looked to Don like each breath he took seemed to be made with a great effort toward self containment. Much to Don's astonishment, so far today, Charlie had somehow managed to keep up with him in the emotional detachment department.

"_A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;  
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;"_

Oh, Don _had _found his tears. But he had found them alone. Last night. In his own room. In his own bed. And then he had found the strength to put them away and pull himself back out of that bed this morning. Yet in the absence of anger, any public display of emotion was still out of his reach.

_  
"A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; "_

Allowing himself the luxury of an unfortified emotional collapse just wasn't in his nature and he supposed it never would be. Charlie too had remained despondent throughout the funeral service and now here, graveside, his face was still a mask. Don found himself hoping that Charlie had found some way to express his grief. At this point, he would be happy with an outburst of any kind from his brother.

_  
"A time to rend, and a time to sow; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; _

Robin's mother, a widower, had been seated next to Don and when she released a stifled sob, he reached over and patted her hand gently; grateful to see an open eruption of sorrow from amongst the mourners. She offered him a grateful smile through her tears before she turned her attention back to the preacher.

"_A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war; and a time of peace." _

_To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven."_

Charlie found himself strangely effected by the verse. He had expected the emotional draw of those words to be stronger. But instead of a rising sensation of loss and grief, he found an uncustomary surge of frustration and anger.

As the preacher launched into a full explanation of how everything happens for a reason, it took all the willpower Charlie had not to scream out over the man's mellow tenor and demand to know why people found it so hard to accept the idea that sometimes things happen for _no _reason. Trying to tell himself that Robin had been killed for some distinct purpose and that her death would serve a greater good was like him trying to convince Don that he didn't blame himself for what had happened and that he was going to be fine.

First of all it was never going to happen, and second, it was complete and utter bullshit.

Why did they always think that if they can convince you it was God's will and that God had a good reason for it…..that somehow that was going to make it all okay? That somehow that was going to make it hurt less? Funerals were supposed to make you feel better. They were supposed to give you release, then closure…and then hope. Instead, Charlie found himself drowning in a sea of guilt.

It didn't matter what Don said. It was impossible for him not to hold himself accountable for what had happened. From the minute he had stepped onto that Metro train on that warm summer night, he had set the events into motion that had brought them all to this place. Without his backpack, they never would have gotten involved in the Jose Menendez murder case. He never would have convinced Marcus to testify, so Robin never would have been in the position to defend him from a desperate psychopath. She never would have been in the position to lose her life this way. It came full circle back to him and the only other person he really could blame was Marcus. But he'd talked enough to the kid over the past few days to know that he already blamed himself for getting Charlie involved. He certainly didn't need him to dump even more guilt on his shoulders. And it didn't matter, anyway. If it wasn't for Charlie's subsequent choices after he met Marcus, Robin never would have died. He knew it to be fact, and no matter what Don said….or claimed to believe….he knew it too.

Charlie cut his eyes at his brother and was startled to find Don's head turned in his direction. He still wore his sunglasses….but the look on his bruised face was easy enough to read without eye contact. It seemed that Don could literally read his thoughts and seemed to be shaking his head at him. _You can't blame yourself Charlie. He would have killed you too. _Don had already told him that several times…..almost as if he were convincing himself. Still, Charlie kept saying those same words over and over to himself.

Robin had meant so much to Don. The preacher began to carry on about how special she was and it was the first thing he said that Charlie could agree with wholeheartedly. Robin _was _special and he'd never seen his big brother happier. But it seemed to Charlie that Don had already managed to conquer many of the same demons he had yet to face.

It was still there…in Don's eyes….and it still hurt him….it was obvious when he thought no one was looking. But the guilt was not blatantly visible. Not they way Charlie knew it was on his own face.

_He could have killed you too. _He really did want to convince himself that there had been nothing he could have done. Quickly diverting his eyes to the cluster of lilies on top of the mahogany coffin, Charlie blinked hard trying to erase the memories that plagued him every time he heard her name.

"_Let us pray."_

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to a cluster of trees that stood next to the grave sight. Marcus, Frankie and several other boys he did not recognize were standing together with their heads bowed. And much to his surprise, David and Olivia were standing with them.

"_In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our sister Robin;"_

Charlie was suddenly stuck with an almost painful revelation.

Maybe that _was _it.

For two young men the cycle of violence had been broken and with help and guidance from the right sources they would have the chance to show others how to break that cycle.

"_and we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust."_

If there _could _be a reason…..If it _were _possible that a greater good would come from what had happened to Robin…..what had happened to him……and to Don.

Maybe that was it.

"_The Lord bless her and keep her, and give her peace." _

He only hoped that was going to be enough. For all of them.

"_Amen."_

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Authors Notes: We have almost reached the end my friends. One more chapter to go. I hope the story is not petering out for you. If you're still with me…..Thanks!

Final Chapter

**Chapter Twenty: Stop the World, I Want to Get Off**


	21. Stop the World, I Want to Get Off

**Chapter Twenty: Stop the World, I Want to Get Off**

The words '_Kingpin Makes Deal' _over the news anchor's shoulder on the forty two inch flat panel television screen got David's attention and he leaned over and grabbed the remote control from the table.

"Hey, guys……GUYS!"

Aiming the device at the television in the corner of the room, the digital letters MUTE disappeared and the sing songy voice of the news network's resident bubble headed bleach blond filled the room.

"…_a last minute deal worked out with the Department of Homeland Security, Abrego Cartel front man, Miguel __Escalón_ _has agreed to testify against his former employers. A federal court judge in Southern California has accepted the plea, giving __Escalón_ _a life sentence in a medium security facility in exchange for his testimony."_

About a dozen agents had stopped working to watch the breaking news and several of them audibly gasped in disbelief at the information.

"_The charges against __Escalón_ _included racketeering, weapons and murder conspiracy, conspiracy to commit terrorism and running a continuing criminal enterprise. The trial was slated to begin early in the new year."  
_  
Someone behind him squeezed Don's shoulder and he was jolted from the instant stupor that Escalón's name had emerged him in. Don offered up a forced smile as he turned to see Megan standing behind him as they listened to the rest of the news report.

"_Several other defendants from the FBI's crackdown on gangs in Los Angeles have also agreed to plea bargains in exchange for their testimonies. It was __Escalón_ _who was expected to receive the harshest sentence and for him to be ushering in the new year in a private cell comes as quite a blow to the victims of the violence incited by the Abrego Cartel and the notorious street gang known as the Mara 13. If he had been found guilty by a jury, __Escalón_ _would likely have been sentenced to death by lethal injection. His involvement in October's massacre at the Spring Street Federal Courthouse in Los Angeles, which resulted in the death of Assistant United States Attorney…."  
_  
David hit the MUTE button again before the news anchor could say Robin's name and an oppressive silence held the room for several seconds.

Finally Don could take it no more and stood, feigning a stretch in an attempt to disrupt the awkward silence.  
"Well, at least he's not coming out again."

Several agents gave their hearty agreement to his statement and went back to their desks.

Standing up, Don headed for the door.  
"David, if you can wrap things up here, I think I'm gonna call it a night."

David nodded in silent reply as Don grabbed his jacket from the back of his desk chair, getting several sympathetic looks as he exited the room.

He had just hit the down button outside the elevator doors, when Megan caught up to him.  
"You okay, Eppes?"

"I'm fine."

Megan's expression was incredulous, but she smiled politely.  
"We're meeting over at the Bonavista later to watch the ball drop. If….?"

"Oh...Thanks. But I'd better not. It is Charlie's first night home and I promised Dad I'd make it for dinner. Besides, I'd like to be the one to tell him….about Escalón's little deal. I think he'll take it better if he hears it from me."

The elevator door opened and Megan followed him in. As the doors closed, Don turned to her with an inquisitive stare.  
"Something else on your mind, Reeves?"

A sympathetic smile played across her lips.  
"How _is _Charlie?"

"He's still got a long way to go. The doctor says it will be at least four more months before he releases him for work and he's not very happy about sitting out a full semester. Up till now, he's kept himself pretty busy getting Marcus through his GED. The kid's going to take his SAT's in the spring and start applying for colleges."

From the expression on Megan's face, he could tell this wasn't the answer she was looking for. Giving up the chit chat, Don stopped trying to hide his concern from her.  
"He still has some pretty bad days and he doesn't want to talk about it."

Don bit his lip and stared at the floor for a minute.

"To be honest, most of the time, I don't either."

Megan's green eyes were filled with compassion as she shook her head sympathetically.

"He _was _able to go to the funeral, Don. That's an important part of getting the closure and the resolution that he needed. But he _will _need to talk about it….and so do……."

He didn't let her finish.

"I know. I know you're right…I really do. But it's only been eight weeks."

"Do you want me to talk to him?"  
The support that his team had shown him over the course of this nightmare had been phenomenal. And Megan's expertise had always come in handy, but somehow Don didn't think that was what Charlie needed right now.

"I'm working up to it. It needs to be me……I do know that. I'm just waiting for the right moment."

He nodded, almost to himself.

"Maybe tomorrow….you know? New year and all."

Leaning against the elevator wall, Megan ran her hand through her hair.  
"Don?"

The elevator's ding indicated that they had reached the ground floor.

"I've done my time on the big black couch, Reeves. I'm back in the field."  
He reached out and squeezed her arm gently.  
"It's getting better. You know? I'm learning how to deal and things _are _getting better. I just need to help Charlie get there too."

The elevator stopped in the lobby and as the doors opened, Megan hit the button to hold them open.

"If you need anything….you know where to find me."

Don stepped out and turned, giving her a smile.  
"Yeah. I do. Thanks, Megan."

"Happy New Year, Don."

The elevator door closed and Don slipped his coat on and headed out the doors into the waning light of the setting sun.

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Standing at the table and staring at the array of papers spread out over it's surface, Don called out to no one in particular.

"What happened in here?"

Alan stuck his head in from the kitchen.

"Your brother."

Stepping into the room, Don headed for the refrigerator and opened the door.

"I thought he was supposed to take it easy. You know, relax?"

Alan shrugged his shoulders.

"He is. He's working."

Giving his father a dubious stare, Don selected a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and closed the door.

Alan had moved back to the stove and was dutifully stirring something that smelled suspiciously like beef stew.

"Charlie's on the couch. Will you help him clear his papers off the table, Donnie. Dinner will be ready soon."

Stepping across the dining room, Don noticed that the TV was on and the running scroll across the bottom of the screen was still repeating the news of Escalón's plea bargain. But Charlie was not there.

"Did he see the news?"

"What?"

Alan stepped through the swinging door from the kitchen into the dining room and stopped short at the serious look on Don's face.

"Did he see the news, Dad?"

"I don't know. I was……."  
He stopped to read the words that were scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

Alan's faced melted into a mask of disbelief.

"How can they do that, Donnie?"

"Did he see it?"

Nodding grimly, Alan turned away from the television to face his son.

"I'm sure he did."

"Dad? Where is he?"

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When a quick search of the house yielded no sign of Charlie, Don returned to the living room. Switching off the television, he flipped through pages of Charlie's notebook which had been left open on the coffee table. Most of the time the numbers that Charlie chose to jot down wouldn't have meant anything to him. But on the surface of the open pages a short list got his attention. Don sat back on the couch and carefully looked over the numbers that his brother had immortalized on paper.

_8 _

_56_

_1,344_

_80,640_

_4,838,400_

_4,838,401_

_4,838,402_

_4,838,403_

_4,838,404_

The count extended to the bottom of the page and Don realized that it continued for several more pages. He recognized the numbers. They were the same ones he unconsciously recited to himself this morning. Eight weeks since she had been killed. Fifty Six days since he had almost lost his younger brother. But Charlie had reduced it to hours, minutes and seconds which was further than he had taken the other journal. The one he had kept for weeks after their mother…….

Suddenly, Don knew with precise certainty where Charlie had gone.

Alan burst through the front door and Don met his father's panicked eyes.

"His bike is gone, Donnie. He's not up to riding. Doctor Harper said he shouldn't do anything strenuous."

Don stood and handed his father Charlie's notebook.

"What does this mean, Donnie? Should I call the police?"

"Dad…"

Trying not to laugh at his father's statement, Don shook his head.

"I think I may qualify as the police. It's okay. I know where he went."

Alan grabbed his jacket from the back of the easy chair and headed for the door.

"You know, I stopped worrying about where your brother was when I wasn't watching a long time ago, Donnie. I didn't think that I needed to watch him like a hawk or I would have…….."

Don was still standing by the couch, staring at Alan as he rambled.

"What is it? Donnie?"

"I think you need to sit this one out, Dad."

"What?"

"I need to talk to Charlie…..alone."

Alan stood and stared at him for a moment before speaking.

"Well….it's New Years Eve, Don. It's getting dark, there are drunk people out there driving around and your brother, eight weeks into recovering from a near death experience decided to go for a bike ride."

Meeting his father's eyes Don raised his eyebrows.

"Then I guess I'd better go get him, huh?"

In an act of surrender, Alan removed his jacket and tossed it back over the chair.

Heading for the door Don stopped in front of his father. If it hadn't been for this man, neither one of them would have made it to adulthood, much less though the past eight weeks. A unexpected rush of emotion filled Don's eyes with tears and much to his own surprise, he grabbed Alan by the shoulders and hugged him tightly.

"He's gonna be okay, Dad. We're all gonna be okay."

1

12

1

By the time Charlie parked his bike at the bottom of the hill, he was hurting so badly that he had started to wonder if he was on some kind of path to self destruction. By the time the psychiatrist that Dr. Harper had recommended finished talking to him about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and 'normal' reactions to guilt he felt like he was trying to plead his mental stability in court. He was okay now. He really was. At least he had thought so. Until he had seen the news update.

His eyes found the old familiar rut in the ground and Charlie headed up the hill. Thanks to the heavy rains of late fall there were large patches of green grass growing across the hillside and that made it easier for him to keep his footing.

New York had Times Square, but California was the best place in the world to be on New Years Eve. It was cool, but not too cold and if there had been enough rain, everything stayed green and beautiful all winter long. If it truly qualified as winter. Four seasons across the globe…except in California.

It was always summer here. Well, most the time.

It had sure been a long cold winter for him…….and for Don too.

It was almost completely dark by the time he rounded the top of the hill and headed for the knoll that rested less than a quarter of the way down the other side. But as he had done so many time in the past, Charlie easily found the smooth surface of the familiar solid granite marker and used it as a brace to lower himself to the ground.

Leaning his head back against the stone, Charlie felt calm and safe. It was the first time he'd truly felt that way since………..since that day.

"I know you were there. I felt it."

He paused as if waiting for an answer.

"I remember when I was about six or seven years old. You told me that you would always be there for me, no matter what. I always believed that right up until the day you told me you were leaving. That you were dying."

Charlie felt tears rolling down his cheeks and made no effort to suppress them. He was tired of trying to remain detached from the pain he was feeling. And here, with her, there was no point. She always knew anyway.

"I'm sorry that I spent so much time resenting you for breaking that promise. But now I know you never did. You didn't lie to me. You were there. You were always there. I know that now."

Sitting quietly in a graveyard wasn't exactly something he had made a habit of doing in the past, but somehow tonight…..it felt right. Charlie turned his eyes to the heavens. The stars were shining brightly, clearly visible in the cloudless sky.

For a moment Charlie actually thought he might sit there and doze off, but an angry curse from very close by cut though the peaceful silence and brought him back to full alert.

"Damn it!"

His breathe caught in his throat and Charlie held the air in his lungs until the next sentence from the loud mouthed interloper made him smile.

"Where the hell are you, Buddy? You're supposed to be here."

The almost panicked tone in Don's voice quickly erased the smile. He must have been gone longer than he thought.

"I guess you know me pretty well, huh?"

A genuinely relieved laugh came from somewhere nearby.

"Where are you? It's dark as hell out here."

Using the cool granite to pull himself back to his feet, Charlie almost came face to face with Don where he stood on the other side of their mother's tombstone.

"Are you okay, Buddy?"

Now it was Charlie's turn to laugh, but his was a weary laugh that bordered on cynicism.

"Not even close. And you?"

Don leaned against the stone and turned to look at his brother, barely visible in the dark.

"Charlie, I know it's not what we wanted. I know it's not what Escalón deserved. But we have to look at the bigger picture here……."

Charlie interrupted him, his voice sodden with disparagement.

"The bigger picture? THE BIGGER PICTURE? Don! He gets to walk away."

"No, Charlie."

The light from the rising moon was just enough to make out Charlie's face and Don was dismayed to see tears shining on his brother's cheeks.

"It's not like that, Buddy. He's still going to prison. He's still gonna pay for the part he played in all of this."

Charlie shook his head sullenly and turned his back to Don, heading towards the trees at the edge of the cemetery.

"It's not the same, Don and you know it."

He stopped about half way and then turned back to face his brother.

"He's supposed to sit there. Sit there and wait knowing that his time is dwindling down to nothing. He's suppose to be forced to sit there waiting to die….knowing that he is there to die for what he did. The man who pulled the trigger got off easy and someone is supposed to suffer for what happened to Robin. It was supposed to be him."

Walking around the stone marker in front of him, Don found his way to the place where his younger brother was standing.

"It will be, Charlie. He's not exactly gonna be saying at the Ritz. I know how you feel, I do. But you aren't the one who's supposed to suffer for it. It's not your fault and it never was."

Watching Charlie's face it was obvious he was battling with what he wanted to say and it took him several minutes to find the words he was looking for.

"I know it's not my fault, Don. I know there was nothing I could have done. Deep down, I really did know that. But I still felt responsible for it and sometimes I still do. But unlike you, I can't just pretend that I'm okay. I tried, Don…but it doesn't work that way for me."

Don was too flabbergasted at the statement to speak and he allowed Charlie to finish his sentence while he gathered a rebuttal.

"I don't….I don't pretend…."

Charlie cut him off.

"You do Don! You always have. I'll bet you didn't even get pissed off when you found out about Escalón. I got sick, Don. I had to go to the bathroom and throw up! After what he was responsible for doing to me and to Robin. She was…..she was….. You loved her. I thought you loved her."

His regret was instantaneous, but even knowing it was a psychological need to divert his guilt onto someone else, he couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

Don looked at him as if he had been physically struck.

"Damn it, Charlie. How can you say that?"

He closed the distance between them, trying to sort out the wide range of emotions that he was feeling.

"How in the hell can you say that to me?"

Even in the dark, Don could see the self loathing displayed on Charlie's face. He wanted to be punished. He wanted him to be angry.

Don took a shaky breath and firmly grabbed Charlie by the shoulders.

"I know what you're feeling, Charlie. And I'm going to tell you the same thing I told you eight weeks ago when you looked at me and said you were sorry for letting her die. You are not going to do this, Charlie. It was never your fault. It was never her fault. And it wasn't mine either."

As he continued, his words rushed out of him like an avalanche picking up momentum down a mountain.

"And I'm more than pissed off, Charlie. I'm..…furious. At Escalón. At you. At myself. At God. At the Universe. At no one in particular.

I didn't kill him when I had the chance. I regret that every day and then at the same time I'm glad I didn't because I'm not sure I could have lived with myself if I had."

Letting go of Charlie's shoulders, Don took a step back.

"I'm not pretending that I've stopped hurting, Charlie. It feels like it was yesterday that she died. And then it feels like it was five years ago. But either way, it still hurts. I still see her. Smell her. Look for her. I wake up in the night and reach for her…….but she's not laying beside me and then I get that stabbing reminder that she never will again."

Charlie hadn't taken his eyes off of him, and his face reflected a degree of anguish that Don was only to familiar with.

"She's gone and she's still everywhere, Charlie. She's always……………."

Don cut himself off when he felt hot tears burning in his eyes. He was losing control. Of his thoughts. Of his emotions. Of his actions. And he could not afford to do that.

Or maybe he could. Maybe that was what Charlie needed.

Hell, maybe that was what _he _needed.

"I just want…………."

He hesitated to stifle the sob rising in his throat and then decided against it. It came out as half a sob and half a laugh.

"I want you to understand that you're not alone, Charlie."

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn't bother to disguise his tears for what they were and Don was startled when Charlie walked quickly towards him.

"I know _that. _I just wasn't sure if you did, Don. I've always known that."

Pausing to wipe off his own tears, Charlie stopped in front of his older brother and stared at the honest emotion that was displayed on his face.

"That's the only thing I'm sure of anymore."

"That's the only thing we can ever be sure of, Buddy."

Forcing himself not to think about it, lest he hesitate, Don grabbed Charlie's shoulders and pulled him to him, folding his brother into his arms. Hugging their father was one thing, but physically embracing Charlie was quite another. Neither were accustomed to physical displays of comfort from the other, but there was no awkwardness in this and for what seemed like hours they stayed where they were.

Allowing himself to cry in front of his brother was less of a challenge than Don had thought it would be and in one regard he had been correct…..he felt as if he would never stop. He had come here to console Charlie, not the other way around.

"Damn, man. I'm sorry."

"Shut up, big brother. You're ruining the moment."

The kind of laughter that can only come from real heart-felt tears filled the unmitigated silence that had taken over the night.

Pulling back from his brother's returned embrace, Don meet Charlie's eyes.

"I feel like an idiot."

"Why, Don?"

Charlie laughed again through his own tears.

"Because real men don't cry?"

"No, dummy. Because I waited so long to do it."

They stared at each other for a moment and then Charlie suddenly looked uncomfortable. He took two steps back and took a deep breath before he spoke.

"I love you, Donnie."

Don ran his hand though his hair as Charlie's words stirred up the memory of the last time he had said that to him. And how certain he was that he would never get the chance to tell him that the feeling was mutual.

"I love you too, Buddy."

It was easier to say than he had imagined.

"I just feel bad that I had to wait until you were dying before I realized how much."

A comfortable silence effortlessly descended on the graveyard and it's only two living occupants. For a few moments they stood in silence, then Don heaved a deep sigh and headed back towards the top of the hill. He had just turned to Charlie and opened his mouth to speak when a tremendously loud explosion broke the silence and a shower of sparks lit up the sky over their heads. In a split second Charlie dropped to the ground and Don fell into a crouch and pulled his GLOCK from it's holster.

As the second round of New Years Eve fireworks went off, Don stood back up.

"Damn it. GOD!"

He looked over to where Charlie had been standing and took several wide strides to get back to him.

"Are you okay?"

Charlie's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"I wasn't ready for that."

His eyebrows drew together as his eyes went from the gun in Don's hand to the display of concern on his face.

"I see you were."

Holstering his weapon and looking slightly embarrassed, Don reached out and took Charlie's hand, pulling him gently to his feet.

"Sorry. Habit. You didn't hurt yourself did you?"

Charlie shook his head. Another round of fireworks went off nearby and his shoulders jerked in response to the sudden noise.

"I think I'm ready to go now."

Just as Don had reacted habitually to the sound, Charlie had developed a reaction as well. At the first explosion he had hit the ground like a seasoned pro and Don knew that from here on out he always would.

"It's normal to react that way, Charlie. After everything you've been through this year. It's perfectly normal."

"Normal? What's normal, Don? About any of this?"

Don put his arm around Charlie's shoulders as they started down the hill towards his SUV.

"The situation is not normal, Charlie. But I think our reactions are."

"Normal behavior in an abnormal situation, huh?"

As they reached the bottom of the hill, Charlie headed over to the edge of the tree line and retrieved his bicycle from where he had hidden it from view. He wheeled it back to the SUV and handed it off to Don to lift into the back of the vehicle.

"I just want things to be okay, Don. When are they just going to be okay?"

"I know I'm not gonna be okay overnight, Charlie and neither are you. Nobody expects that………..except for us."

Slamming the top of the hatch back trunk on the SUV, Don turned to face his brother.

"But I'll tell you one thing. Neither one of us is going to be okay if we don't call Dad and tell him where we are."

"He's a little freaked out, huh?"

Charlie's timid expression almost made Don laugh again.

"A little? That's an understatement. Do you have your cell?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Charlie gingerly pulled himself into the passenger seat.

"What do you think?"

"Here, use mine."

Tossing his phone at his brother as he climbed into the vehicle, Don couldn't help but marvel at the places this year had taken them both.

Yet somehow they were still standing.

It was finally starting to look like they were going to make it.

Things would get better. And life would go on.

Just as Don started the engine, Charlie's voice filled the cab.

"Hey, Dad."

"No, I'm okay."

"Yeah, We're on our way back."

"Just talking, Dad. We just needed to talk"

1

1

1

FINAL

Authors Notes: Thank you all for reading and for taking the time to leave feedback! I hope you've enjoyed the series.

"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge,  
That myth is more potent than history.  
I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts  
That hope always triumphs over experience  
That laughter is the only cure for grief  
And I believe that love is stronger than death."  
_-- Robert Fulghum. Storyteller's Creed._


End file.
